


Nine-Ball Kiss

by sperrywink



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Camping, Canon-Typical Violence, Chess, First Time, Flashpoint Shoutout, Fluff, Loners in love, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Pool & Billiards, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Present Tense, Slow Burn, Snipers, workaholics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sperrywink/pseuds/sperrywink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian rethinks his life's path, but fuck you, Colby, it isn't a midlife crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine-Ball Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> So this is kind of my Ian/Colby manifesto. I truly fell in love with the pairing this month, and wrote this at a furious pace. It has been a glorious experience. I am hoping to write a companion story from Colby's POV, since he has so much going on, but we'll see if my writing mojo continues.
> 
> Like a dumbass, forgot to mention beta'd by raveninthewind, with my eternal gratitude.

Ian is a workaholic. He travels nine months of the year for hunts, only sticking around Quantico the other months to teach, and they aren’t even consecutive. Hunts don’t allow him weekends or days off, and he usually goes from one hunt to another with the only break in-between the flight from place to place. Luckily for him, it has been a solitary life, but not a lonely one. 

At least it hadn’t been.

He is an old dog in a young dog’s game these days. Now forty-six, his eyesight, while still better than 20/20, is worse than it had been in his sniper heyday. Tracking is still his forte, which means he has a number of good years left in fugitive recovery, but suddenly that doesn’t comfort him as much as it used to. It isn’t the work that has him tired, it’s the travel that is dragging him down. He’s always been on the move, ever since his adoptive parents died, but suddenly that isn’t as appealing as before. 

These days he wonders. The hunt chose him, but maybe he doesn’t have to choose it back anymore. At least not in the same form. He loves solving the puzzle, finding the clues, pursuing the criminal, catching the bad guy. But being in a new place every day with bad food and roach-infected hotel rooms just isn’t as acceptable now. Before, it was the price of being the best. Nowadays, scores and rankings mean less to Ian than they had even a couple years ago, and all the inconveniences are more of a bother than he wants to put up with every damn day. He feels like he has nothing left to prove.

He doesn’t know if he’s finally growing up, or just growing old. He wants a home. He just isn’t sure what that means to him these days. People? Place? Animal or mineral--hell, he has no idea.

So he sits down with a couple of Assistant Directors in Quantico, and offers them a deal: Give him a permanent post out West, and he’ll start looking into training a replacement for his sniper teaching responsibilities so he can move out there full-time. They’re not happy, but also don’t want to lose his skills. He has some leeway ever since they didn’t back him when he was charged with murder, and he pushes his advantage to the fullest. He’s ready to get out if things don’t go his way, and he makes sure they know that. The U.S. Marshalls are always looking for people with his skills.

It goes his way. Ian knows how to play hardball. 

He isn’t surprised when he’s assigned to Los Angeles. A fair number of his informants are out that way, and it’s their biggest West Coast office. He takes six weeks off, using up some of his ridiculously large number of accrued vacation days, and spends five weeks hiking deep in the mountains, and one week finding a place. The five weeks spent in the wild are enervating, but he’s still restless when it’s over. He’s surer than ever that looking for some permanence is the right way to go right now. It might not be the answer, but it looks to be on the path to one.

When he finds a place, it isn’t a palace, but it isn’t a dump either. He’s actually quite pleased with it. No traffic noise or sirens. A doorman and cameras on the exits, and clear sightlines as far as he can see. His last apartment in Los Angeles had been a dump like most of his bolt-holes, so this is quite the change for him. He still moves in with nothing but his backpack and a sleeping bag, but he’s okay with that. Baby steps, after all.

He manages to order a mattress and a gun safe both to be delivered in a week or so. He then goes out and buys a coffeemaker and a radio, as well as some paperbacks, before starting work. He figures he’s set for a while with those basics.

* * *

* * *

His first stop at work the next morning is Don’s office as the Special Agent in Charge. He makes his way through the halls, whispers following in his wake. He guesses there have been rumors of his placement to Los Angeles, but apparently everything else has had a tight lid on it, at least from what he gets as he walks through. He leans against Don’s doorway and coughs gently to let Don know he’s there. Looking up, Don smiles, and something in Ian’s chest unclenches. They had resolved their differences from his arrest and when he held Colby hostage, but that doesn’t mean Don wants Ian in his wheelhouse. 

Waving Ian into the office, Don says, “Close the door.”

Ian does as directed, and jokingly says, “Big man on campus now, huh?”

Don gives him a back-slapping one-armed hug, and says, “Yeah, old news, though. You’ve been MIA from these parts the last couple of years.”

Ian shrugs as he sits down. “I’ve been overseas helping Interpol hunt for the FBI’s Most Wanted. Spent a lot of time in Asia.”

“Not what you wanted?”

“Three years ago, it was. Now…” Ian shrugs again.

“I was surprised when rumors surfaced you were looking to settle down. Doesn’t seem like you.”

“And despite having your ear to the ground, you still got stuck with me,” Ian answers. He’s not sure if he’s joking or not. He watches Don closely, but the surprise on Don’s face is genuine.

Ian relaxes as Don clarifies. “Hell, I fought for you. You know you’re one of the Bureau’s best. There was actually a feeding frenzy. I thought Johnson in Phoenix was going to shiv me when I beat him out.”

“He always did have a quick temper.” Because of Don’s honesty, Ian offers, “I’m glad you won. It’s nice to be back here, and working with people I trust.” He schools his face into passivity, but inside he’s kind of wondering at what he just revealed. He does trust Don and the team he built around him. That’s not usual for Ian. He predicts people’s behavior; he trusts his skills in that and what that means, but that doesn’t mean he trusts other people. But he does trust Don. He has reason to.

Don gives him a quick smile and nods. “I was surprised you didn’t want to be team lead, though. You’ve been leading your own investigations for a long time, are you sure you don’t want to lead here?”

Shrugging again, Ian lets his thoughts about trust go fallow, focusing back on Don. “Maybe one day, but I still have teaching duties. I’ll be in Quantico at least three or four months a year for a while. I have to find and train a replacement before they’ll let me out of that.”

“We could set you up with a good second-in-command, you know that.”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.” Don gives him a curious look, but he’s patient enough to let Ian find the right words.

In a rare show of nerves, Ian rubs the back of his neck. “I want to see if this works first. I always thought I would die in a blaze of glory on the hunt, but decades later, here I am.” Don chuckles, and Ian can see the agreement on his face. It’s weird to think Don also thought he would die in the field, but apparently survival makes for strange bedfellows. Ian continues with, “I want, well, I want different things now, but I’m not sure if they’re a passing feeling or what. I don’t want a team depending on me, just to run out on them. So I’m taking things slow.”

“Makes sense. Thanks for being honest.”

“I figured I owe you that at a minimum.”

Don shakes his head. “No, clean slate, all right? We both made assumptions that were wrong about a lot of things.”

“I’m not sure they were of the same magnitude,” Ian replies drily.

“Still. I’m willing to start fresh, if you are.”

Ian knows a solid when he’s offered one. He gives Don a sincere smile and says, “Deal.”

Don smiles back, and hands him three folders. “I figured I would give you some leeway in picking a team. You have your choice. All three are good, so feel free to choose whichever, but I was thinking Rodriquez’s Violent Crimes team would benefit most from your skills.”

Nodding, Ian says, “I’ll check them out, and let you know.”

“No rush, you’re stuck in HR and IT until tomorrow.”

Ian grimaces, and Don laughs at him. Ian asks, “So who do I know that’s still in the area? I ran into David in D.C.”

“Well, Colby is now a team leader. Nikki moved with him to his team. Charlie and Amita are back from Cambridge, and they have a baby on the way.”

Ian can’t help blurting out, “No shit?” Don laughs at his grin. “Uncle Don. I bet Charlie likes the sound of that.”

“He does. He wants me and Robin to have kids too so that they can play together.”

“Life just keeps moving on, doesn’t it?”

“You know it.”

Picking up the folders, Ian says “I’m glad. I’ll let you know what I decide tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good, Ian. Welcome aboard.” Don stands up to shake his hand again, and then escorts him out of his office. His secretary is already waving phone slips at him, and Ian chuckles on his way out. Better Don than him. He might be toying with settling down, but he still can’t handle a desk job.

* * *

* * *

Ian does pick Rodriquez’s team. He finds that Don was right about that being the best fit for him. Elena Rodriquez is a Hispanic woman with a solid ten-year record and good closure rates who just lost her second-in-command to a transfer. Ian figures he can make a difference on her team and bring the closure rates up to exceptional. He’s cocky like that. The other two members, Jones and Miller, are green as green comes, which is why the closure rates dropped. So between Ian and Rodriquez, Ian thinks they can train up the newbies pretty well.

The next morning, taking his IT-assigned laptop and folder of HR paperwork, Ian finds Rodriquez’s team and introduces himself. She appears no-nonsense, and after introducing Miller and Jones as Michael and Malik, she leads Ian to an empty conference room and waves him to a seat. After closing the door, she says, “I want to makes sure we’re on the same page.”

Ian smirks. “You mean the page where you’re the team leader, and I’m not?”

Raising an eyebrow, she says, “That would be the one, yes,” with a hint of a laugh.

“No worries, Rodriquez. I told Eppes that I wasn’t willing to be team leader while I have obligations in Quantico, and I stand by it. If I get out of line, feel free to slap me back into it.”

She studies him for a good minute, and then nods firmly. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

He laughs this time. “I’d like to promise it won’t happen, but I’m pretty sure it will. I’ve been on my own too long now for me to give up control easily, but I’m really not here to usurp your position.”

“So why is the great Ian Edgerton here on my team?”

Ian takes a second to study her in return and sees only curiosity, so he says, “Two reasons. One is that you’re stuck with green agents. I like your team because you could use someone experienced to help train them up. The other is personal. I’m rethinking some things, and doing it in one place seems like a good idea this time around.”

She says, “Midlife crisis, huh?” She has the audacity to wink at him, and he likes her all the more for it. 

He still shudders, and has to say, “Bite your tongue!” and she laughs.

She asks, “Why not D.C.?”

“The East Coast is too crowded. I’m still hoping to get away now and then. It helps me think.”

Rodriquez nods, and holds out her hand again. “Call me Elena. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

Ian shakes it and replies, “That’s just the way I like it.”

* * *

* * *

Ian gets his mattress and gun safe delivered, and after another week of sleeping on the bare mattress, he finally buys sheets, pillows, and towels. He has to keep reminding himself that he doesn’t have to fit everything into his backpack anymore. He can have a pillow without it compromising his mobility. He finds that it helps that these are things he won’t be attached to or worry about leaving behind if he has to run. You know, just in case.

He shakes his head at his own issues, crawls into bed, and sets the alarm on his phone. He might need longer than he thought to get his head on straight. 

A couple of weeks later, he runs into Colby. It’s a Friday, and he’s just coming back from lunch when he hears his name being called. Turning around, he sees Colby smiling at him. Colby says, “Hey, man, I heard you were assigned here now. Wasn’t sure I believed it.”

“Colby, hey. Yeah, I’m working with Rodriquez.”

Nodding, Colby says, “She’s good. So how you settling in?”

Since Colby honestly looks curious, Ian shrugs, and says, “Pretty well. Still getting used to following someone else’s lead.”

Colby snorts out a laugh as they walk through the lobby together. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” His eyes are twinkling with mirth. Ian bumps his shoulder, but smiles to show he isn’t serious.

Before they part ways at the elevator, suddenly curious about Colby, and what he’s been up to, and ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that’s saying it’s because he’s attracted to Colby’s smile, Ian asks, “So, you up for a beer after work? I figure I owe you that at least.”

“Hey, no. Once the facts came to light, your actions made a lot more sense. Still makes you totally out there, but not completely off the rails like I thought.”

Remembering their Dragnet conversation, Ian says, “The truth will set you free, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Still, if you’re in the mood, beers are on me.”

Colby looks indecisive for a second, but finally shrugs and says, “Sure, what the hell. Sounds good.”

After work, Ian leads Colby to the little bar he had checked out a couple blocks from his apartment. Sports play on the TVs, but the volume is turned low enough for conversation, and the beers on tap are varied and mostly a step above the usual. As they settle in the booth in the back, Colby says, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the least I should do.”

“Naw, we should have figured out you had a plan. You always do.”

Ian shrugs. Plan or no plan, he hadn’t treated Don’s team well during that whole ordeal. “Plan, yes, but assurances, no. I could have trusted you guys more.”

Colby says, “Sometimes trust is the hardest thing.”

Ian clinks the necks of their bottles together in silent agreement. He lets it go. If Colby isn’t going to hold a grudge just like Don isn’t, Ian certainly isn’t going to talk him into one. He’s never been stupid.

They talk tactics and general casework, the Dodgers and good hiking, but avoid active cases by mutual agreement. The empty beer bottles are accumulating in front of Colby, while Ian is still nursing his second bottle. He’s not much of a drinker.

Colby is slumping in the booth with his tie stuffed in his pocket, looking more and more relaxed. Suddenly breaking the silence that fell when they were both watching the baseball scores flash across the closest TV screen, he says, “I heard of you in Afghanistan, you know. You were like a ghost or a boogeyman. I was shocked when I met you in person, and you turned out to be a real boy.”

“No boogeyman, they just didn’t keep me in one spot for long, and I liked it that way back then.”

“But not anymore?” He turns to look closely at Ian with curiosity plain all over his face. Ian thinks if Colby wasn’t drunk, he wouldn’t have offered up that tidbit about Afghanistan or pressed the question.

Ian says, “Maybe,” but then shrugs and tilts his head to show his indecision. He doesn’t mind coming clean to Colby. He finds he still values the embryonic relationships he built in L.A. with Don, Nikki, David, and Colby. That’s why he had been happy to be assigned here.

Colby asks, “You always been a rolling stone?”

“Ever since my adopted parents died, yeah.”

“Shit, I didn’t know you were adopted.” Colby looks stunned.

Ian takes a drag from his beer. “It’s not something I talk about much. They became my foster parents when I was seven, adopted me when I was nine, and died when I was twenty-five.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ian shrugs, and since he doesn’t want to discuss it, says, “What about you? Any family to speak of?”

“Just my mom now.”

“She still in Iowa or Idaho or Michigan, wherever you’re from?”

“Idaho, and yeah. She likes it there.”

“Not for you, though, huh?”

“No, I got out the first chance I could. Joined the army just like my dad, and his before him, and never looked back. I go back and visit a couple times a year.”

“That’s good.” Ian nods at Colby’s empty bottle. “You want another?”

Colby laughs, seeming a bit embarrassed, and says, “I think I‘ve had more than enough, actually. I wasn’t planning on drinking so much, but I had a rough day. You know how it is.”

Figuring this is why Colby was reluctant to talk about active cases, Ian nods and says, “Well, I’m just a couple blocks away. Feel free to crash at my place.”

Colby slants him a look, and with a sly smile says, “Let me guess. You’ve got a sleeping bag in an empty apartment with my name on it.”

Ian squares their bill and leads the way to the door. “Fuck you, Granger. I actually have a mattress.” He says it with a smile, and he’s pleased when Colby laughs.

He directs Colby on the walk to his apartment. Colby stumbles a couple times and wavers a bit. Ian’s glad he offered him a place to stay. He seems drunker now than he had in the bar. He also isn’t surprised when Colby laughs for a good five minutes at his empty living room. Ian finds him a toothbrush and gets his sleeping bag out of the closet. Interrupting Colby’s chuckles, Ian says, “I was actually going to offer you the bed, but I’m rethinking that.”

“I’m not going to throw you out of bed, man. Hand over the sleeping bag.” Ian thinks about protesting, but he’s kind of tired, and he isn’t one to get into pointless arguments. He knows he’s more used to sleeping rough, but Colby looks stubborn, so Ian just hands it over, along with the toothbrush, and says good night. 

Pointing out the bathroom, he adds, “The coffeemaker is on timer, but I’m out of food. So no breakfast.”

Ian’s at the doorway to his bedroom and unhooking his gun, when Colby catches his attention. Colby says, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Better than having you wander the streets, right?”

Colby laughs again and replies, “Probably.” Ian closes his bedroom door and finishes getting ready for bed.

* * *

* * *

The next morning Ian slips on his jeans and heads out to the kitchen. He’s sipping his coffee and watching the lump of sleeping bag that holds Colby. He knows they aren’t friends, not really, but he’s wondering if they could be. He’s always been closer to Don in a relative sense, but he considered them all friendly acquaintances before he held Colby hostage. Now, he’s not so sure, although he’s happy with the way Don and Colby have reacted to his transfer.

On the other hand, he also knows his social skills are so rusty that they’re practically non-existent. Not that they were ever his strong suit, but after the past twenty-five years traveling, he’s good at building contacts, but relationships elude him, including friendships. So he doesn’t know how to build one with Colby. Or if he even wants to. This rethinking life thing really is a pain in his ass.

Is this what he means by finding a home and changing his life? Friendships and relationships, and all that other junk he’s purposefully avoided for decades? Or is the apartment and permanence enough? He’s still not sure what he wants, besides still doing the job.

The Colby lump shifts, and he hears a stifled groan. Chuckling, he gets a glass of water and some ibuprofen, and then lightly kicks the middle of the lump with his bare foot. “I have water and painkillers.”

Colby fights his way to a sitting position, the sleeping bag pooling around his waist, revealing his tight undershirt. Ian enjoys the view as Colby says, “You are a god among men, Ian, but your floor is like sleeping on concrete.”

“I’ve slept on concrete. The carpet is better.”

Colby downs the pills and glugs down the glass of water. He rolls his eyes and jests, “How come I’m not surprised? Both that you’ve slept on concrete, and on your own floor. You’re ridiculous.”

Ian sips his coffee again. “I prefer versatile.”

Colby snorts out a laugh, and then holds his head. “Don’t make me laugh. Do you have any more of that coffee?"

“A whole pot.”

“Lead the way.” Colby squirms out of the sleeping bag and joins Ian in the kitchen wearing his undershirt and a pair of boxers. Ian notices his legs are long and muscular. He wonders a bit at how much he’s noticing Colby physically, but mostly just shrugs it off. Half-naked, beautiful people are half-naked, beautiful people after all.

Ian refills his cup of coffee and pours a new one for Colby. They both rest their asses against the kitchen counter, looking out over the tall counter into the living room. The sleeping bag just highlighting its emptiness. Colby says, “How long you been here? Two months? This is just sad. We have to get you a couch, and maybe a table and chairs. You can’t squat in your own apartment.”

Looking into the barren room, Ian shrugs, and admits, “I’ve never actually been furniture shopping.”

Colby does a double-take. “Didn’t you have a place in D.C.?”

“It came furnished.”

“Jesus, I don’t know how you do it. How old are you?”

Suspecting Colby is a good ten years or more younger than him, Ian mildly replies, “Fuck you.” But then he adds, “It never seemed like a priority. I’m mostly just here to sleep.”

Colby hums. “I don’t know, man. Didn’t you say were looking for a change coming to L.A.?”

Sighing, Ian says, “Yeah, but I don’t actually know what I want that change to be. That’s the whole problem.”

“Sounds like a midlife crisis. Sure you don’t have a hankering for a Corvette and a blonde beach bunny?”

Ian pushes Colby who fumbles with his coffee cup, as he starts laughing again. Ian says, “Fuck you and fuck Elena, too. It’s not a midlife crisis.”

Colby straightens up with a more serious look. “Then what is it?”

Ian actually takes the question seriously. Thinking, wondering about the jumble of thoughts that brought him here to L.A. permanently, he says, “You know, if I had been framed any other place but L.A. and if any other team had gotten the call but Don’s, I might have rabbited, even though I knew I was innocent. Figured out a different way of clearing my name. My plan hinged entirely on you guys. Maybe I’m just seeing what that means.”

Colby smiles, but then lets it fall into a smirk. “That’s almost sweet. Who knew Ian Edgerton was such a tween underneath all the badass.”

Ian rolls his eyes and says, “Ha, ha.”

Colby laughs wholeheartedly, and Ian has to smile at his laughter. He looks good with his face relaxed into laugh lines and eyes crinkled up. Shaking off the moment, Ian asks, “So you up for breakfast? Or do you have to go? There’s a little diner a couple doors down from the bar. You can pick up your car.”

“Breakfast sounds good. And I’m serious about the furniture. Next free weekend for the both of us, we’re hooking you up.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Colby claps him on the shoulder, and they split up to dress for breakfast.

* * *

* * *

It takes three weeks before they both have the same Saturday free, but Colby is as good as his word. After a quick stop at a fast food joint for breakfast, they’re in his SUV heading to furniture outlets.

The first place they go is full of couches and recliners. It’s like a maze. Ian’s mind is idly plotting the best route through and over the furniture to the back exit, but physically he just takes off his sunglasses and sighs. He asks, “So how do you pick a couch?”

Colby gives him a look, and then takes his arm to drag him to a floral monstrosity. “You try them out,” he says as he flounces onto the couch, but then he grimaces. “This one is like a rock.”

Ian snorts and looks around the huge room again. “What a waste of time.” Or rather a waste of his time. Maybe he should have found a furnished place again.

“Oh, and what would you rather be doing?” Colby is already onto the next couch.

Shrugging, Ian meanders after him. “Heading into the mountains for a little R&R, probably. Maybe the beach.”

Colby rests back on a black leather sectional and nods. “Your version of a five-star hotel, right?”

Ian catches his eye, and says, “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“It was the turning point. It finally made me realize something else was going on with you. Made me realize you had a long-term plan besides the hostage situation; I just didn’t know what it was.”

Colby jumps ahead to look at some other sectionals, and Ian lets the conversation dwindle and die as he thinks about that. He remembers Colby’s whole story about losing with honor rather than winning by cheating. Thinking back on it, it might have been a turning point for him, too. It just took him years to realize and act on it. He doesn’t believe he’s been winning by cheating, but he might have lost sight of what’s most important. 

Ever since his adoptive parents died, he’s been a little lost and running away from that. It’s just taken him this long to admit it to himself. He feels like a loser for being so blind to his own inner workings, but he figures no one else is better off, not from what he’s seen. Everyone’s a mess one way or another.

After another ten minutes of wandering, he spots a dark brown leather couch with rolled arms. Pointing towards it, Ian asks, “What do you think of that one?”

“Considering it’s the only couch you’ve expressed interest in, I like it,” Colby answers with a grin. Jumping up from another ugly floral sofa, Colby leads the way to the couch Ian picked out. It isn’t big like a sectional, but it’s long enough that Colby fits length-wise on it, and Colby gives a little moan as he rubs the surface. “I love buttery leather like this.”

Ian kicks at his feet, and Colby shifts to sit instead of lying down, making room for Ian to sit too. Ian sinks into the couch and rests his head against the back. Colby mimics his posture, and they sit there like that for a good minute. Ian’s hands are drawn to caressing the couch, too. It really is soft.

Finally Colby rolls his head to look at him and asks, “This is it, isn’t it?”

Ian looks back at him, while he considers how the couch feels. Finally he says, “It’s definitely more it than the white one with the big, red poppies all over it that you were checking out.”

“Does that mean you want to keep looking?” 

Colby looks willing to do it, but Ian immediately says, “Hell, no. This is good enough to suit me fine.” 

Colby laughs and waves over the salesperson, and they negotiate price and delivery. 

Their next stop is another outlet, where Ian talks Colby out of a table and chairs, and just buys two bar stools for the high counter separating the living room and kitchen. They throw them in the back of the SUV, and as Colby closes the back hatch, Ian asks, “Are we done?”

“I have one more place in mind, if you’re up for it. It’s a specialty woodworking place. I figure we can find a good coffee table or some bookshelves.”

Thinking back to his adoptive dad’s woodworking shop and the furniture he made when the ranch allowed him time off, Ian’s mind is pulled into the past. Bud’s face swims to mind, as does the smell of Mary’s cooking. Shaking his head to clear it again, wondering a bit why his adoptive parents are on his mind more today than they have been in a while, Ian puts his sunglasses back on and says, “Sure.”

The smell of fresh wood and the dusty floors bring back Bud’s memory even sharper when they get to the woodworking place. Ian lets Colby talk to the owner while he just wanders around the furniture and soaks in the smell, letting the memories wash over him.

Both Mary and Bud had already been in their sixties when they adopted Ian. Bud’s weathered, callused hands had always been a comfort, and Ian can remember them sanding down a nearly finished bedroom set that Bud made for him once the adoption went through. It’s a bittersweet memory, and Ian acknowledges how much he still misses them.

Colby finds him a couple minutes later while his mind is still in the past. Colby asks, “You like this one?”

Coming back to the present, Ian notices his hand has been rubbing the small bookshelf in front of him. It has a medium stain on it, and is about four feet high. Not too dark to look black, but not too light to clash with the couch they bought. Shaking his head away from the bubbling memories still lingering, Ian surreptitiously takes a deep inhale to get himself back under control. He says, “Yeah, I think it goes with the couch.”

The owner has followed Colby, and offers, “He said you were also looking for a coffee table? I have a similarly styled one just waiting on stain in the back. Maybe the two pieces together? I can show you if you follow me?”

Ian nods decisively. “Lead the way.”

They buy the two wood pieces of furniture, fitting the bookshelf into the back of the SUV besides the bar stools, and setting up a date for when to come back for the coffee table. The owner is a chatty fellow, but Colby seems to have caught onto Ian’s mood because he handles the owner and is silent once they are on their way again. Once back in Ian’s neighborhood, all he asks is, “How about pizza, and then dropping off the stuff?”

“Sounds good,” Ian says, and then settles into the quiet.

* * *

* * *

At the end of the weekend shopping for furniture, Ian is itching to get out of town and do some thinking. Unfortunately, they are slammed with back-to-back-to-back cases, and he barely has the hour to spare to be there for the couch delivery, let alone get a weekend off.

It’s another two weeks before his schedule eases up, and Ian takes off for the weekend gratefully. He hikes in about eight miles off the beaten trail and finds a good, secluded spot to rest for the night. He doesn’t make a fire considering the dry spell they’re going through, but he sets up his tent and sleeping bag, before sitting out against a fallen log watching the moon and stars emerge.

As he knew it would, his mind turns to Bud and Mary. More than anyone, they instilled in him his views on right and wrong and helped him bridge those views with being a sniper.

A lot of people consider snipers sociopaths and psychopaths and cold-hearted killers. When Ian had bitched about it once too often to Mary and Bud, it was Mary who talked him down, despite being one of the gentlest people he had ever known. After twenty years, he doesn’t remember her exact words, but he remembers her kind, understanding eyes, and her soft, shaking hands as she held his between hers. 

He ends up swiping at his eyes as they tear up with emotion, but he is too exhausted and too honest to be angry about it. They had always been his saviors, ever since they first laid eyes on him as a six-year-old shivering and huddling against the patio door, and welcomed him into their daughter’s house, who they were visiting. He had been banished out of his own house and into the cold night by his drunk father. Finding warmth and kindness with Bud and Mary that night was like experiencing a warm light out of the deep hole he had been stuck in. And when they took him in as a foster kid, it was like blinding sunshine.

So he refuses to mind mourning them. Having their memories to warm him and guide him even now is worth it.

He stays up most of the night, watching the moon rise and fall, huddling into his jacket and reminiscing as he tries to find clarity about who he is now and whether he truly is honoring their memories. It helps that he knows what Mary would say if she was here. She would smile that understanding smile, and say, “Just by being you, you’re brightening our world, Ian.” Ian had always modeled himself more after Bud’s no-nonsense demeanor, but Mary had been the true heart of their family. 

He finally dozes around sunrise, but is still up and going by nine. He spends a couple hours hiking back to his car. Once everything is stored away, he sits in the car and charges his cellphone. Making some decisions, he drives home. 

Once back in his apartment, he sits on his new couch, putting his socked feet up on the new coffee table, and calls Bud’s and Mary’s biological daughter, Margaret. She had already been in her thirties by the time Bud and Mary adopted him, so they had never been close, but she had always welcomed him warmly into her home. He sends her Christmas cards, but they haven’t talked in a long while. Margaret sounds so happy to hear from him, and to hear he has settled down, that Ian is a bit ashamed that he hasn’t kept in touch better. Apparently, she worried about all his travelling. It’s like having a bit of Mary back in his life, and warmth spreads through his chest. He promises to call more often.

* * *

* * *

Ian and Colby meet up for beers a couple more times, and they start exchanging text messages every now and then. It’s barely more intensive than what Ian usually does to keep in touch with contacts throughout the FBI and other law enforcement, but the intent feels different this time. He’s not sure if the difference is coming from him, Colby, or both of them. He’s also not sure what it means, if anything.

Don has always seemed to get Ian more than Colby, but of them all, it had been Nikki who had understood him the best. They went on a date and had some conversations, but at the time he wasn’t interested in anything more serious. He kept not calling her, getting caught up in his hunts, and now Nikki is married to a state prosecutor. She and Ian are still friendly, but nothing deeper than that. Ian is happy for her, but not surprised she isn’t interested in maintaining anything beyond professional contact with him these days. They had left things on a cordial note, but not a close one.

So, he’s always liked Colby, they have a lot of basics in common, but they’ve never been close. Plus, originally Colby always seemed a little too hidebound for Ian’s outside-the-box thinking. That changes for Ian when Colby’s triple-agent status is revealed, but afterwards Colby still keeps him at a distance, so he lets it go. He wonders what has changed now for Colby, because Colby seeks him out just as often as Ian contacts him. It’s definitely mutual participation, whatever the intent is.

He’s pondering all this and exchanging random texts with Colby while on a routine stakeout looking for an informant of Malik’s, when the next text Colby sends asks him if he wants to hang out that weekend again. 

Ian checks his surveillance, checks in with Malik, who is still looking through the binoculars, and then writes, “Sure. You have something in mind?”

“Chess.”

Ian can’t keep his scoff inside, and Malik sends him a look, but doesn’t ask. He’s not a chatty fellow. Writing back, Ian just sends, “Seriously?”

“I play in the park.”

Deciding not to ask, Ian just writes, “Good enough. See you then.” 

Closing his phone, he asks Malik, “Anything?”

“Nothing. Why, got a hot date?”

Ian snorts and takes the binoculars when Malik hands them over. He says, “When I do, you’ll be the last to know.”

Malik laughs, and says, “Oh, cold, Ian, that’s just cold.”

* * *

* * *

They meet in MacArthur Park early that Saturday morning, Ian bringing coffee and bagels. Colby has a box of chess pieces under his arm, and Ian says, “You were serious, huh? Fair warning, I’ve never played.”

Colby lifts his eyebrows and asks, “How can you not have played chess? You’re like the poster boy for strategic thinking.”

Shrugging, Ian sits on one of the benches on one side of the chess table and starts unpacking the bagels. “I never was much for board games. I preferred being outside.”

“Chess is so much more than a board game.” Colby looks scandalized. It’s cute.

Ian gives him a look over his sunglasses, but decides not to make the sarcastic comment he’s thinking towards. Instead he asks, “So when did you learn?”

“I learned as a kid from my dad, but I really got into it in Afghanistan.”

“Ah, yes. The eternal struggle between boredom and firefights that is war.”

“You know it.”

Colby starts setting up the pieces as they eat their bagels, giving Ian a quick overview of how the pieces move, basic rules, and how to win. He finishes setting up the pieces, and when they polish off their bagels, they start playing.

Ian loses badly and quickly at first, but Colby is a good teacher, so over the next three games, Ian gets better and better, and the games take longer and longer.

It isn’t until the fifth game before it gets interesting, and everything clicks for Ian. He suddenly sees how the strategy works within the rules, and he starts anticipating Colby’s moves and planning accordingly. The time between moves lengthens for both of them, and they settle into some good-hearted trash-talking to destroy each other’s concentration.

Ian’s having more fun than he’s had in a long time. He still enjoys work, but his free time has been consumed with thoughts of what he wants, and since he still has no concrete idea, it’s been frustrating. But here, he’s not stressing about who he is, or what he wants. He’s just enjoying the cool breeze on his skin, the sun shining above, and the game with Colby. It’s nice.

Colby makes a move, and Ian makes a sound, which has Colby freezing with his hand on the piece. He says, “You keep doing that, I’m going to punch you,” and slowly lets the piece go.

Feigning innocence and schooling his face to look impassive, Ian replies, “Doing what?”

“Trying to psych me out every other move with that humming sound.” In the beginning, Ian hadn’t been doing it on purpose, he had actually been surprised by some of Colby’s moves. But seeing how Colby reacted, he has started doing it on purpose, particularly the moves that he figures for the best option for Colby. He finds it amusing to see if he can rattle Colby and make him second-guess.

“Your punch would have to have a chance of landing for me to be scared,” Ian replies.

“I’ve seen you fight, remember? You might be great with a gun, but I’m definitely better in hand-to-hand.”

“I sense another challenge coming.”

“You’re damn right you do.” Colby gives him a shark-tooth grin.

Ian smirks, moves his piece, and says, “Anytime, anywhere, Colby. Also, checkmate.”

Colby’s gaze snaps to the board, and after looking over the placement of the pieces, he says, “Son of a bitch!” 

Ian laughs, and Colby gives him the finger as he studies the board. “I totally didn’t see that coming. You’re a sneaky bastard, Ian.”

Draining the last of his coffee, Ian stretches. “You think I got where I am because of my pretty face?”

“You’d have to have a pretty face for that,” Colby replies distractedly. He’s still studying the pieces on the board, but finally sighs, and starts packing them up. 

Checking his watch, Ian whistles. “I can’t believe it’s past noon already.”

Colby smiles at him. “Sucks you in, right?”

“It did. This was good. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Hey, no thanks necessary. I was happy to have some company today. You up for wings for lunch? I know a place nearby.”

“Lead the way.” Ian follows Colby, thinking about their morning together. It had been lazy and congenial, and one of the best days Ian’s had in L.A. Maybe the best day he’s had since they went furniture shopping. He’s not sure if Colby is part of the connection he’s looking for, but he does seem to be adding to his happiness. On the other hand, he still can’t get a read on Colby’s motivations. It’s kind of weird. What is bringing him and Colby together, now of all times?

He doesn’t know, but he’s kind of looking forward to finding out.

* * *

* * *

They plan to meet in the FBI gym a week or so later to spar. Ian arrives early to get a workout in, but Colby is already there, so he goes over to say hi. Colby finishes his reps and smiles at him. Basking in the warmth of that smile, Ian says, “Looks like we both had the same idea.”

“Sure does. Although you’re obviously a slacker. You’ve only got an hour before I kick your ass.”

Backing away to head to the weight lifting circuit machines that have just opened up, Ian grins sharply. “Work smarter, not harder, Colby.”

Colby laughs and gives him the finger, but Ian can see the anticipation in his face. He’s definitely looking forward to their sparring as much as Ian is. It’s not just seeing whose best, but being able to get his hands on Colby that has Ian’s juices running. 

He works out, getting all the weight-lifting he wanted to do done, and ends with some cardio to loosen his muscles for the sparring. When he finishes up, Colby is drinking some water and watching him casually. 

Ian can’t read his expression, and for the first time, he wonders about how good a liar Colby must be. He successfully hid his true motivations from everyone but one guy for two years while a triple agent. Contrarily, Ian actually isn’t much of a liar. He’s okay leading people on in interrogations, but he considers that preemptive striking, not lying. Generally, with him, what you see is what you get.

Ian can be as curious as he wants, but he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to know what Colby is thinking, at least not about anything serious. Sure, the anticipation showed on his face previously, but that is probably because he didn’t care that it did. Colby plays his cards close to his chest, and Ian thinks he only allows people to see what he wants. It’s an eye-opening thought.

He’s still pondering it as they make their way to the sparring mats. He wipes down his face and arms with a towel and has a quick drink of water. Stretching his neck from side to side, he puts everything down, and says to Colby, “We good to go?”

“I’m good. Are you ready to go down?”

Ian doesn’t even take a second to smile at the challenge, he just attacks. Colby blocks and swivels, and it is on. 

It turns into a humbling experience. 

Ian is very good. He can go head to head with just about anybody. With Colby he lasts a good long while, but Colby takes him down again and again in the end. Colby is better than good, he’s exceptional. The sparring is raw fighting at the beginning as they get the measure of each other, but Colby’s innovation and surprise in his attacks and defenses lure Ian into asking questions, and asking for demonstrations of certain moves and takedowns.

They start working together to better each other, talking and working through moves and counter-moves, and hours pass before Ian knows it. It’s when they pause so that they can gulp down some water, and Ian happens to glance at the clock on the wall that he’s finally aware of how long they’ve been at it. He says, “Holy shit, is that the time?”

Colby looks up at the clock too, and then they both look around the gym. It’s nearly empty, and Colby replies, “Sure looks like it. Crap. I was hoping for an early night tonight.”

Ian stretches and groans at his sore shoulders. “And I was hoping not to get the crap beaten out of me, but we can’t all get what we want.”

Colby slants a good-humored smile at him and picks up his stuff. “I would totally trash-talk you and mock your pain, but I’m too exhausted for it. Damn, you have a lot of stamina.”

Laughing, and unable to resist the joke, as he passes Colby on the way to the locker room, Ian says, “That’s what she said.”

Shaking his head, laughing as helplessly as Ian is, Colby replies. “I walked right into that one. I have no excuse.”

“I think we’re both too punch drunk to care.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Colby replies with a pained groan.

Their lockers are in different rows, so they split up to shower and change. Ian watches as Colby walks the couple of yards further up to his row. He’s sweaty and glistening, and moving with restrained power and grace, even more so than usual. Ian is enraptured, until he snaps himself out of it. He finally looks down, sighs, and rubs a towel over his face, reminding himself that he can’t always get what he wants. It’s especially frustrating because he thinks his desire is solely focused on Colby, and not general horniness. 

When he lifts his head again, Colby’s gaze meets his, and then Colby is ducking into his row of lockers. Just like he suspects, in the charged second that their glances catch he has no clue what Colby is thinking, but he’s pretty sure there was no invitation there. More so the pity.

Sighing again, with a pained groan he pulls his shirt over his head and then gets his stuff together for the shower. Afterwards, on the way back out to their cars, Ian says, “Thanks for the beat-down. I learned a lot tonight. Seriously.”

Slapping him on the back, Colby just says, “It was great for me too. I haven’t been that challenged in a long time. So anytime, man, anytime.”

Ian’s going to hold him to it. He’s not above learning new tricks as an old dog.

* * *

* * *

So they continue to text, and even start coordinating their workout schedules to meet up more often than not. It doesn’t even matter if they plan on sparring or not. They just go through the circuits side-by-side or whatever they’re doing that day, chatting and spotting each other.

Ian spends more time hanging out with Colby than he’s spent with anyone in years. He continues to wonder about Colby’s motivations, and he catches Colby eyeing him now and then, but Colby is still pretty opaque, and Ian doesn’t confront him about it.

It’s not that he’s reticent or scared, he’s just still feeling his way. How can he demand answers from Colby when he doesn’t know what he wants from their relationship either? So they hang out and make jokes, and it’s all pretty relaxed, even given the unspoken undercurrents.

Ian sometimes wonders if what they have now is enough on its own. He’s had long dry spells in the past, and they haven’t bothered him. He’s not gregarious or extroverted enough to have a guy or girl in every port, and sometimes one-night stands aren’t easy to come by. So he goes without, and he barely notices. This could be one of those times.

Other times, Colby moves a certain way, or the sunlight highlights his profile, and he feels it isn’t enough. Can never be enough. That whatever they are building towards is something that he wants desperately. 

So he’s conflicted to say the least.

As Friday progresses, he hears that Colby’s case has closed. His case closed the day before, so he sends a text to Colby asking, “How about beers and pool tonight?”

He then goes back to his case report and gets most of the way through writing and proofreading before his phone dings with an incoming text, and Colby finally responds. “Sure. I know a place in West Hollywood.”

He’s just closing his phone with his agreeing text when Don stops by, and asks, “Hey. Do you have a second?”

Ian raises his eyebrow, but just says, “Sure,” and follows Don to his office.

Once the door is closed and they’re settled into their chairs, Don says, “I just wanted to check in, and see how you’re settling in. It’s been a few months.”

Ian relaxes into his seat. “It’s been good. Rodriquez is sharp, and she’s keeping me on my toes.”

“No conflicts?”

“Just normal stuff I’m sure we all expected. It’s hard for me to step back, but I don’t think it’s been an issue. Has she said anything?”

“Nothing like that. She’s happy to have you on her team, actually.”

Don hesitates, and Ian frowns. It’s obvious Don has something specific on his mind. He asks, “What’s up? For real.”

“I just got the case reports, and I know things got hairy on the Markus case, and I wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“And what page would that be?”

Ian can see Don’s face harden, and their gazes lock. Don says, “The one where we don’t coerce witnesses. I know I was part of the whole Buck Winters thing, and I know you get results, but I sometimes worry you’ll cross the line.”

Because Ian has never been hotheaded, no matter what people think about him, he doesn’t jump down Don’s throat. He gives it the fair thought the concern deserves. He previously did skirt the line more than most at times, but he was in fugitive recovery. They weren’t just suspects, he was 100% sure they were guilty. 

In contrast, now he is investigating and discovering evidence. Witnesses and suspects blur into each other as the case unfolds. It’s the nature of discovery. He recognizes that. On the other hand, he’s also aware of a key difference between him and Don. To Don, saving innocent lives has always been paramount. It’s something Ian became aware of ever since the spree killings by Crystal and Buck, although it should have been obvious to him during the Sniper Zero case as well when Charlie was in the line of fire. Ian kept his eye out for the sniper, while Don’s priority was getting Charlie to safety. With Crystal and Buck, Don’s priority was Meghan when she was knifed, not chasing down the subject. Ian almost left without him, but Don held sway. Ian’s glad he did now. 

He’s begun playing it closer to the line. Rodriquez is a stickler for getting air-tight evidence and confessions, and add in the changing perspective that prompted his move to L.A., and he’s willing to acknowledge the value of the other side. 

After thinking for another second about how to frame the difference, he says, “You know, I realized this earlier, but it really hit home when I was arrested. Before getting to know you and your team, if our positions had been reversed and you had taken Colby at gunpoint, even given our friendship, I would have taken the shot.”

Waving a hand as if dismissing the point, Don answers, “That’s not an indictment of your character, Ian. It’s what the textbook says.”

“Like I care about textbooks. No, it went down to a fundamental, philosophical difference in methods that we had. You protect good guys. I catch bad guys.”

“Hey, I’ve caught more than my share of bad guys,” Don says with aggression.

“You’re not listening to me. I’m saying I think you’re right. We should be protecting the good guys, but I lost sight of that in my focus on retrieval. Catching the bad guys became more important to me than anything else. Even the truth. That was…misguided. So what I’m saying is--don’t worry. I’ve been persuaded to your side of the fence.”

Don looks relieved and also a little surprised. Ian guesses he isn’t known for being soft and fuzzy in his pursuit of criminals, which this could be mistaken for, but he likes to think he still gets the job done. Don doesn’t mention anything else, though, instead he just says, “Good. Speaking of that incident, I notice you’ve been spending time with Colby.”

Raising an eyebrow, Ian smirks. “Don Eppes gossiping? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Fuck you. I’m just making sure everything is good there. I know things can be weird considering the whole hostage thing.”

Shrugging, Ian offers, “I bought him some beers, we hung out, and it seems to be good.”

“And that’s all it is?”

Ian raises both eyebrows this time. Don is being unusually nosy, and he’s obviously heard more about the amount of time Ian and Colby have been hanging out than he wants to admit. “All there is right now, yes.”

Don scrutinizes him, but Ian has nothing to hide, so he waits for what Don has to say. Finally, Don nods, as if in relief, but adds, “Let me know if anything changes. Colby’s one of our key SWAT back-up personnel, and you’re our best sniper, so you two might be on joint operations a lot.”

“Will do.” Ian stands up, and heads towards the door. 

Don says, “Thanks for indulging me.”

Ian just smiles over his shoulder, a bit relieved to clear the air with Don if he’s honest, and says, “You’re the boss,” as he leaves.

* * *

* * *

That evening they take Ian’s car to West Hollywood, since parking is at a premium. Ian also suspects Colby might be looking to have more than a couple beers again. He had another rough case. Ian doesn’t mind. Colby was a quiet and good-natured drunk the last time, and still fun to hang out with.

The pool hall has ten tables, and a long bar along one side. It’s still early, so there are tables free, and Ian grabs one while Colby goes to the bar to get them some beers. Ian’s just about finished collecting the balls and putting them in the rack for the first game when Colby comes back and hands him his beer.

Colby takes a drink, and says, “You might be winning this time around. I’ve never played much pool, to be honest.”

“You mean I can redeem myself from your hand-to-hand takedown? Sweet!”

Laughing, Colby says, “I should have known this was all payback.”

Winking at Colby, and then setting up the cue ball, Ian replies, “You know it. I’ll break.” He lines up his cue and takes his shot, scattering the pool balls around the table. A ball falls into a pocket, and Ian calls stripes for the first game.

They play a couple of rounds against each other, switching between straight pool and Nine-Ball, winner picking the next game. Colby is a fast learner, so Ian doesn’t always win, particularly with the vagaries of chance inherent in the games, so it’s fun. As the night goes on and the place fills up, they get challenged, and play as a team against new people from time to time, but Ian’s focus stays mostly on Colby.

They’re flirting. 

It’s subtle, but also noticeable. Their gazes are catching, fingers are trailing when handing over new beers, and heated smiles are being exchanged. Ian’s having more fun than he’s had in forever. He almost doesn’t care if it leads anywhere tonight.

To feel this alive and _not_ be out in wilderness is kind of a new experience for him.

He always feels more at home camping and hiking in the wild than he is in civilization. He never deliberately avoids company when camping, there just has never been any likely candidates that he wanted to share those experiences with. It has always felt like a big commitment depending on another person for survival, and not one his previous relationships would have been up to. Looking at Colby now, joking and laughing, he’s almost convinced that their next outing should be heading out into the woods. Just to see if he can get double the happiness of being in the wilderness and having Colby’s company. It’s a novel sensation for him, and he wisely doesn’t say anything about it, just continues making flirty quips.

They wrap up their evening when it is still pretty early by Friday night standards. Despite it being Saturday the next day, Ian is on call, and Ian suspects Colby doesn’t need to get any drunker. He’s currently loose and happy, but not too sloppy. A good time to end the night on a high note, and they can both sleep it off easily.

Getting back in the car, Ian makes sure Colby does up his seatbelt before starting the engine. Colby directs him to his place, and Ian puts the car in park in front of it. Colby is leaning against the door, and looking at Ian. Ian can’t decipher his expression, so he just stares back quietly.

Finally Colby gives himself a shake, and says, “Thanks for the ride, and the evening. I had a good time.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

Laughing, Colby replies, “You gotta admit we make an odd pair.”

Deciding not to take Colby’s words to heart although he’s not sure he agrees with the sentiment, Ian says, “Maybe it’s the Stockholm Syndrome finally kicking in.”

Colby giggles, making Ian smile. Colby’s pretty cute when he lets go. Ian’s getting the understanding that Colby is as unsure about them as he is. It still doesn’t show on his face, but from the way Colby is staring at him, but not moving closer, he gets the idea. He’d love to be invited inside, and he’s turned on after their night of flirting, but he’s not surprised when Colby undoes his seatbelt with a sigh, and just says, “I’ll see you Monday.”

Ian answers, “Sure thing,” and then waits with the car idling as Colby sways his way to his apartment. It takes Colby a couple of tries to get the key in the lock, but then he’s inside and the lights are on, and the door is closing. Ian sighs and drives home.

* * *

* * *

Colby is avoiding him. 

When Ian thinks about it, he’s not surprised. Colby did seem skittish on the ride home, not conversing or flirting anymore. Ian is disappointed, but he doesn’t push Colby, and he lets things fall silent between them. Their friendship is still so nebulous to him, including both their actions and their intentions, that Ian feels he doesn’t have the right to push. 

What does give him pause is how mundane his days seem without texts from Colby or the anticipation of hanging out with him. Previously, he had always been able to abandon relationships at the drop of a hat, with the start of another hunt. That isn’t the case with Colby now, and he’s frustrated with the change. Yes, he wanted new meaning to his life, but that didn’t mean he wanted entanglements, or knew it meant this frustration when he started down this path. He was looking to clarify the difference he felt within, but it feels like he found Colby instead of getting to know himself better. He’s not sure if it’s good or bad, a side product or the main event. 

So he does what he always does and takes the next weekend off to escape into the San Gabriel Mountains. It’s not the greatest weather for it, it’s rainy and damp, but he’s been out in worse, so he just packs everything in watertight bags and heads out.

His boots squelch as he hikes along the trail, but it feels like he’s the only one out here, so it’s extra nice. He notes some fresh cougar tracks and heads away from them, but otherwise it’s quiet and calm and he can think undisturbed.

He remembers thinking about taking Colby out hiking with him while they were playing pool, as well as Colby’s comment that their friendship was unlikely, and he pushes against these thoughts like probing a bruise. Thinking about Colby’s attitude when he held him hostage, he wonders if there is more to Colby’s words than Ian was giving them credit.

Ian knows his reputation. When he’s not ignoring it, he’s using it to his advantage. That doesn’t mean he falls into the trap of believing it. He guesses he can’t say the same about Colby, no matter the amount of time they spend together. The question remains whether it’s worth pushing Colby past his preconceptions, or whether Ian should cut his losses before he gets in any deeper.

Staring up into the cloudy sky, with rain dripping down his chin, Ian pictures Colby smiling in the sunshine, and he knows he’s not giving up yet. He never was a quitter.

What this means about his objectives in moving to L.A. is a different story. He’s not sure where it all fits in. He kind of fell into his relationship with Colby, and for the first time ever he wonders if it’s because Colby is Colby that it gets his motor running, or if it could have been someone else. Watching his footing as he skids down the side of a small valley, he ponders this, but reaches no conclusion, not really. He can’t imagine it being anyone but Colby, but isn’t sure if that means what it implies. 

If it does, he’s in much deeper than he thought. 

When he gets back to civilization Sunday night, he’s surprised and reluctantly happy to see a couple of texts from Colby. Nothing substantive, just “how you doing?” and “Want to hang out?” kind of things, but Ian takes heart. Maybe Colby is the right choice. He replies, “Out camping. Sorry, missed your texts.”

Colby texts, “In this weather?”

“Best time. Nobody else is crazy enough.”

“Isn’t that the truth. ;-)”

They continue in that vein for a bit longer, until Ian says he should get his gear laid out to dry, and Colby just says, “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

* * *

Since baseball season is still in full swing, as his initial salvo to get to know Colby better and hopefully give Colby the opportunity to know him, Ian invites him over to watch the upcoming Dodgers game on the weekend. He has been listening to the games on his radio, but since he can’t make it to actual games because of his work schedule, he caves into the advertising and buys the complete MLB TV package. And then he has to go out and buy a TV. 

As far as the afternoon goes, he’s told himself not to expect much, just the renewal of their friendship and their hanging out. Because of this, he’s happy enough when Colby accepts with only a slight pause. 

When Colby rings the bell, Ian lets him in, and Colby take off his shoes by the door. Ian watches as Colby stretches back up, reaching for the ceiling. The fit of his pants do nothing for him, but his arms in stark relief against his tight t-shirt sleeves look enticing. Colby says, “Thanks for inviting me over.”

“You helped pick the couch. I figured you should get to enjoy it.” Ian makes his gaze skip off Colby’s shoulders and towards the neutral living room. He says, “I’ll get drinks.”

He goes to get them beers and comes back into the living room to find Colby has already turned on the TV and settled on one side of the couch. Ian hands him his beer and slumps into the other half, leaning against the arm with one leg bent up. The Dodgers are playing the Padres, and the players are warming up as the announcers chatter about injuries and line-ups.

Rubbing the seat next to him, Colby says, “This couch is still the best. Good purchase.”

“Thanks to your prodding. To be honest, I probably never would have gotten around to it.”

Slanting him a sly look, Colby jokes, “Let me guess, you sleep on it instead of the bed.” He pats Ian’s knee. “At least it’s better than the floor.”

Ian rolls his eyes, and says, “Ha, ha.” Feeling daring and more secure with Colby initiating touch, he slouches further into the couch and shifts his legs until his feet are crossed on Colby’s thighs. Looking as smug as he can, which is pretty damn smug if he does say so himself, he nonchalantly says, “It is comfortable enough for sleeping.”

Ian’s willing to risk seeing what happens, although he expects Colby to continue the joking and push his feet to the floor. Surprisingly, Colby doesn’t. His hand falls onto Ian’s ankle and squeezes. “I told you it was worth having a couch. Nothing beats relaxing on smooth leather.” He winks, but his smile is still only genial, not heated. In the end, Ian isn’t sure what to make of the exchange.

Luckily, the game starts and draws both of their attention before Ian has to decide what to do or say next, but he leaves his feet where they are. If Colby isn’t going to complain, neither is Ian. He tells himself it’s because it’s comfortable lying down. It is, but it’s the heat of Colby’s hand on his ankle and the slowly rubbing thumb that are the most seductive.

He gets engrossed for the first couple of innings, but the Dodgers’ lead builds to insurmountable levels and with the guaranteed win, Ian finds his eyes drifting closed. He had a rough week with little sleep, and the drone of the announcers lull him into a doze.

The loud crack of the bat startles him awake, and he opens his eyes to find Colby staring at him, desire plain on his face this time. One of Ian’s feet is now on the floor, while the other is still in Colby’s lap with his hand wrapped around Ian’s ankle. Ian blinks a couple times, pulling himself together, feeling his own ardor build rapidly. Before Colby has a chance to look away or hide his expression, Ian shifts his foot and presses it against Colby’s crotch. Colby’s more than half hard already.

Colby’s breath catches, and he bites his lip as his eyes darken more. He slowly moves Ian’s foot to the back of the couch, and starts crawling over Ian’s prone body. He whispers, “This is such a bad idea,” but he doesn’t stop coming until he is settled between Ian’s thighs.

“I don’t see why it has to be,” Ian replies.

“Oh, trust me, it does.” Still, Colby doesn’t hesitate when he leans down and kisses him. Ian joins in easily with a quiet moan and throws all of Colby’s doubts out of his mind. He wants Colby too much to question it. Colby puts one hand on either side of his head, and Ian wraps his hands around Colby’s jaw, tilting his face to deepen the kiss. He likes how quickly Colby acquiesces to his direction.

He can feel Colby’s hard length against his through their jeans, and Colby isn’t shy about pressing his pelvis against Ian’s repeatedly, setting a driving rhythm. Before it gets to be too much for Ian, Colby is moving with a wild groan. He puts his weight on his knees, and his hands scramble at Ian’s shoulders, tweaking his nipples on their way down to the hem of his shirt. At Colby’s coaxing, Ian leans up slightly so Colby can pull off his t-shirt. His hands are back on Ian’s nipples, being replaced by his mouth once Colby seems to get his fill of watching Ian twist under his talented fingers. It feels wonderful having Colby’s hot mouth moving over his chest.

Panting hard, Ian runs his hands over Colby’s shoulders and along his arms, mumbling things like, “Yes,” and, ”Harder,” and, “More.” Every time he speaks, Colby shudders against him, so Ian lets more words spill out than he normally would.

Colby’s hands are roughly undoing his jeans, and he finally pulls off from sucking a bruise into Ian’s chest with a hum when he gets Ian’s jeans undone. He slithers down and doesn’t hesitate a second in taking Ian’s cock into his mouth. It feels like he’s desperate for it, which just makes Ian harden all the more.

Ian’s legs are trapped by his jeans, which are only pulled halfway down, but his arms are free, so he gets a good, tight grip on the back of Colby’s neck and starts directing him again. Colby moans louder, and he starts humping the edge of the couch.

It’s like the rush of a high speed chase, dangerous and exhilarating. Ian’s hips want to move, but Colby’s weight holds them firmly in place, and it is the best kind of torture. Ian says, “Fuck,” and fruitlessly tries to thrust his hips up as much as he can. Colby’s mouth is a hot and wet vacuum as he slides up and down Ian’s cock, and Ian’s desire is ratcheting higher and higher, until with a warning shout, he is coming in long spurts.

Afterwards, Ian doesn’t know who moans louder, him or Colby. Ian spaces out for a couple seconds as he comes down from the rush. He feels Colby moving and hears him cursing, but it all feels far away. Finally, he blinks open his eyes, and Colby is on his knees between his thighs with his jeans pooled, stroking himself frantically. Ian watches for a couple seconds, burning the pretty picture into his mind for future fantasies, and then reaches out for Colby’s cock with one hand. He says “Here let me,” but his voice is raspy, and barely there.

Colby’s hand barely slows as Ian’s joins it on his cock, but his moans increase, and Ian can see his thighs shaking. He caresses Colby’s other arm, stroking it. Remembering how Colby reacted when he talked earlier, Ian says, “Come on, Colby. Show me what you got. Don’t you want to see your come hitting my chest? Come for me, baby.”

Colby’s head falls back as he comes, his come striping along Ian’s chest. He starts slumping forward until the only thing holding him upright is Ian’s tight grip on his bicep. Ian gives him some time to get himself together. Colby finally shakes his head slowly, and says, “Holy fuck.”

Ian replies, “There you go.”

Colby’s gaze meets his, and then drifts down to his chest with Colby’s come on it. Ian can see the renewed desire flash in Colby’s eyes, and he chuckles. Colby’s gaze snaps back to his face, but Ian can’t interpret his expression anymore as it blanks out. He’s kind of sad at the return of inscrutable Colby.

With a groan, Colby levers himself off the couch and starts doing up his jeans, and Ian sighs. He guesses the afterglow is over. He reaches for his t-shirt and wipes the come off his chest, and then lifts his hips to redo his jeans. He can see Colby is trying to get himself back under control, so he isn’t surprised when Colby smirks at him and says, “Baby, really?”

Ian smirks back and replies, “I figured a farm boy like you would appreciate it.” He doesn’t admit it’s a leftover from years of one-night stands.

“Fuck you,” Colby answers, but still jokingly.

“Anytime.” This Ian means wholeheartedly. He would love to be pinned under Colby’s weight, getting fucked raw.

Colby’s eyebrows raise, and Ian smirks anew. They gaze at each other intently, and Ian wonders at the passivity of Colby’s face. He knows Colby’s thoughts must be racing the way his are, but nothing shows. Finally, Colby blushes slightly, and Ian can’t help the laughter that bubbles up. Finally, something to go on. Slumping down on the other side of the couch, Colby just says, “Shut up.”

Putting heat in his voice, Ian says, “Sure thing, baby.”

Colby slaps his leg, and Ian laughs again, but then decides to let Colby off the hook. With his own groan, he gets up, and says, “I’ll get us fresh beers.”

* * *

* * *

They make plans to meet up again during the following week, but Ian gets a hot case, so he has to keep postponing. In the end they text that week, but can’t get together again until ten days later. They don’t even pretend to consider anything but sex. At the resolution of Ian’s case mid-week, Colby invites him over to his place, and Ian readily agrees, despite being up for more than a day. He’s eager to get his mouth on Colby.

He follows in his car, parking in the visitor parking for Colby’s apartment complex. They meet by Colby’s door, and Ian crowds against his back as Colby undoes the locks. Once the door is open, Colby turns and grabs Ian’s front collar, dragging him inside. Colby stumbles into the wall, and Ian pins him there, kissing the hell out of him. 

His hands are on Colby’s hips, and one leg is pushing between Colby’s thighs. Colby practically melts into Ian’s touch, and it ramps up Ian’s arousal tremendously. By the time he moves onto biting at the tendon in Colby’s neck and working open Colby’s belt buckle, Colby is shaking.

Ian sinks to his knees, and Colby says, “Fuck.” He’s staring down at Ian like he found nirvana, and Ian can’t help but grin up at him as he pulls down Colby’s slacks and underwear until they slide to the floor. Colby’s cock is already jutting out between the folds of his dress shirt, so Ian strokes him a couple times, watching Colby’s response.

Colby’s eyes close, and his head thumps against the wall. He huskily says, “Stop teasing, you bastard.”

Ian thinks about making some snarky comment back, or dragging it out, but in reality he’s just as eager as Colby is. So he sucks down Colby’s cock with a deep breath and starts bobbing slowly, savoring the weight on his tongue. While sucking, he rolls Colby’s balls in his hand, feeling their light weight and soft texture.

Colby’s hips are shifting restlessly, so Ian grabs his ass and encourages him to thrust. He can take a little face-fucking. It might have been a while since he did this, but it isn’t like his body forgot how to take it. He actually kind of loves watching someone else lose control. 

Thrusting lightly at first, Colby doesn’t pick up speed until Ian hums contentedly around his cock, and swallows it down his throat. Then he curses like a sailor, and his thrusts pick up power. Ian closes his eyes to focus on the feeling, which has the added effect of making Colby’s words clearer to him. He’s saying, “God, Ian, you look like sin. Holy fuck, look at you take it. God, don’t stop.”

Ian can tell Colby is fighting coming, but he’s enjoying being used too much to trick Colby into it. He lets it drag out until Colby is just a mess of cursing and guttural groans, his hips stuttering forward again and again. Finally his thrusts become ragged and uneven, and he’s holding Ian’s head firmly so that he can shoot down Ian’s throat. It’s pretty spectacular, and Ian’s arousal increases tenfold. When he’s done, Colby’s bent in half over Ian, and Ian lets his softened cock drop from his mouth as Colby slides to the floor.

Before Ian can do anything, Colby is scrambling to his knees, and kissing the hell out of him, licking his come out of Ian’s mouth. Ian’s the one who moans this time. Colby’s weight pushes Ian back, and his knees creak, but he doesn’t care because Colby is undoing his belt and pants, and then pushing him so that he slides along the linoleum. Colby fits himself into the freed space and is sucking down Ian’s cock like he is dying for it.

Ian doesn’t last long at all. His desire bursts into flames like a fire with new oxygen. He doesn’t even care about being bent backwards, or his straining knees. The rush is too good. He can’t thrust well, but Colby is doing all the work for him, sucking hard and fiercely. Embarrassingly quick, he is coming with a drawn-out moan and petting Colby’s hair in appreciation.

Once he is aware again after the high of coming, he says, “Shit, my knees. I’m getting too old for this.”

Colby helps him straighten out his legs and redo his jeans. Ian’s eyes are closed, and he can feel his exhaustion overtake him again. He folds his hands over his belly and doesn’t bother getting up. Colby says, “Hey, you can’t sleep on the floor. Come on, Ian,” but it sounds like it comes from far away.

Ian mumbles back, “Better than concrete.”

Huffing out a laugh, Colby says, “Fucking Nine-Ball. Come on, man, I have a perfectly good bed a couple yards away.” He pulls at Ian’s arms, and Ian stands with his help, not opening his eyes until he is upright.

Colby pulls him down the hallway and into a bedroom with a queen-sized bed with rumpled sheets and a lightweight navy blanket. Ian falls onto the bed, and says, “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Go to sleep,” is all Colby says as he pulls the blanket over Ian. Ian mumbles back, but he’s already falling heavily into sleep.

* * *

* * *

Ian wakes up knowing exactly where he is. The benefit of traveling for over twenty-five years. He has trained himself to always remember where he is and what the situation is. What he doesn’t know is the time. There’s no clock in Colby’s bedroom, and it is dark outside the windows, but Colby isn’t there with him. The only light comes from the hallway.

He scrubs his face and untangles the blanket, before getting up. He finds the bathroom first, so uses it as well as some of Colby’s mouthwash to freshen his mouth. Then he goes to find Colby. Now that he is awake, he can hear the drone of a TV in the background. In the living room, Colby is watching the news, but turns when Ian leans against the doorway. He asks, “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. What time is it?”

“A little past eleven.”

“Shit. I conked out for five hours?”

“You were exhausted.”

Ian rubs his face again, and yawns. “Still am, to be honest.”

“You should go back to bed then.”

Hating his need for sleep when Colby looks so good relaxing on the couch in sweats and a tight undershirt, Ian can’t resist asking, “Want to make it worth my while?”

Colby laughs, making Ian smile at him. Colby uncurls from the couch and walks over to Ian putting his hands on the doorjamb over Ian’s head. His undershirt strains more, so Ian checks out his smooth muscles before cocking his head to the side and putting his hands on Colby’s hips, drawing him closer. 

Colby says, “I can be persuaded.”

Ian murmurs, “Do tell,” against Colby’s lips. They kiss leisurely, sucking each other’s tongues into their mouths one after the other.

Running his hands down Ian’s body from his head to his ass, Colby breaks the kiss to suck at Ian’s earlobe, asking, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Ian tilts his head to give Colby better access as he leaves a trail of biting kisses down Ian’s throat.

Squeezing Ian’s ass slowly, Colby pushes his leg in between his thighs. He whispers into Ian’s clavicle, “That I could fuck you.”

Moving one hand to cup Colby through his sweats, feeling him harden more, Ian replies, “Having your beautiful cock split me open? You bet.” He squeezes gently, and Colby moans. Smiling, Ian pulls Colby’s head up to kiss him ardently. Colby responds instantly and starts pushing Ian back into the bedroom. Ian flows with the directions easily.

Once there, Colby pulls his t-shirt over his head and slides his sweatpants off. Ian, who’s in no rush, watches. He realizes they have never been naked with each other before, and he wants to enjoy the view. Colby’s all lean lines, and smooth muscles with sun-kissed skin. He looks gorgeous naked.

Unfortunately, Colby doesn’t give him much time to appreciate the view before he’s crowding Ian towards the bed, and pulling Ian’s shirt over his head and undoing his pants as well. Ian is wiggling out of his clothes, planning on kissing Colby once naked, but Colby pushes him onto the bed before his clothes are even completely off. He’s so eager Ian can’t help but laugh as he struggles the rest of the way out of his clothes lying down.

Once naked, Ian stretches out, and Colby freezes with his gaze raking over Ian. He says, “Fuck, look at you.”

Ian strokes his cock slowly, watching avidly as Colby’s gaze zeroes in on his moving hand. As if being pulled by a string, Colby crawls onto the bed and leans down to lick Ian’s cock around his fingers. Ian moans and pets Colby’s hair with his other hand. Colby’s mouth on his cock is getting his motor running again. He says, “You got lube?” He’s pretty eager to get Colby’s cock inside him now.

Colby mumbles, “Yeah,” into his belly button, and then licks a stripe along one of his ribs. After placing a surprisingly tender kiss over his heart, Colby settles his weight on top of Ian, aligning their cocks, and kissing him gently.

Resting his arms over Colby’s shoulders, Ian kisses back just as softly. He’s enjoying the tenderness and closeness more than he would have anticipated. Is this what he’s been missing out on all these years? Or would it have been annoying when he was younger and less rooted?

He spreads his legs a bit more, so that Colby will settle between them, and their cocks rub together a little bit more. Colby moans and starts rotating his hips in little circles. Breaking the kiss, Ian reminds him, “Lube?”

Colby says, “Fuck, right.” He leans over to the bedside table and gets a bottle of lube and a condom out of the tiny drawer. With one last, deep kiss, he slithers down Ian’s body, stopping along the way for small licks and bites. Ian squirms under the attention, enjoying every bit of it.

Finally Colby is biting a bruise into Ian’s inner thigh, and says, “You want to roll over?”

Ian answers, “Finally,” making Colby huff a laugh against his skin as he helps guide Ian onto his stomach.

Even as Ian hears the bottle snick open, Colby is biting his ass where it meets his thigh, making Ian squirm and spread his legs wider. Colby slides one lubed finger along the crease of his ass, stopping at his hole to rub circles over it. It’s a smooth glide that makes Ian’s arousal feel heightened. Ian knows what’s coming, but still hisses when Colby’s finger breaches him.

The burn makes his skin feel electric, and his hips shift to accommodate Colby’s intrusion easier. Colby adds another finger quickly, but it already feels good to Ian. He breathes through the lingering discomfort, and soon even two fingers aren’t enough. The touch is focusing his desire, and his cock throbs with each slide of Colby’s fingers. He says, “Come on, another.”

Colby quickly complies, and Ian can feel Colby’s cock pushing against the back of his thigh, leaving streaks of precome. Colby is definitely ready. They’re both breathing heavily into the quiet room, and when Ian moans as Colby hits his prostate, it is loud in the silence.

“God,” Colby says, sounding wrecked. Having found it, he rubs his fingers against Ian’s prostate again and again, making Ian shake with his arousal, and breathy moans escape him. He notices the condom by his head, so he picks it up, and waves it back at Colby, hoping to encourage him along. He wants Colby inside him now.

Colby’s fingers still, and are then removed as Colby takes the condom from Ian. Ian wants to say something witty, but he’s panting too hard to make a comment. He hears the crinkle of the wrapper, and then Colby is sliding along his back and pulling at his shoulder so that they are on their sides. Ian can feel his hot breath against his neck as Colby grabs his knee and eases Ian’s top leg back over Colby’s hip. Colby whispers, “Good?”

Catching his breath, Ian replies, “Close to fucking fantastic. Think you can move a little faster?”

“Patience,” is all Colby says in return, with a firm squeeze to his thigh. Then Colby is guiding his cock into Ian, and they both moan brokenly. Ian does feel split open, and the burn is even more intense than it was in the beginning. He breathes through it, relaxing on the exhales. When Colby is all the way inside, and Ian can feel Colby’s belly against his back, Colby stills except for a brief kiss to the back of Ian’s neck.

Ian waits until his body relaxes a bit more, and then he reaches backwards to tap Colby’s side. Colby groans, and at the signal his hips snap back, and then forward, and he bites down on Ian’s shoulder gently, barely a touch of teeth. Ian says, “Fuck,” and puts out one arm to steady them, as Colby continues thrusting purposely.

Colby has a firm grip on Ian’s upper thigh to hold him close through his thrusts, so all Ian has to do is hang on and feel his ecstasy grow. Colby pants heavily against his neck, and Ian can feel sweat build up between their moving bodies, and it all very quickly becomes overwhelming in the best possible way.

Ian can’t get to his own cock with his hand holding them steady, and Colby is holding his leg, so he can’t either, and it is all exquisite torture for him, but he’s not even close to coming. He doesn’t mind. The fucking is setting off fireworks behind his eyelids, and having Colby lose all control behind him is mind blowing. 

Graduating to sucking kisses across Ian’s shoulders, Ian can feel Colby’s ragged breathing, and his moans reverberate through Ian’s frame. Colby’s hips never slow once they picked up speed. Colby goes on and on, and Ian’s thoughts bounce wildly from Colby’s intensity to his own deepening feelings to stray thoughts about past lovers, and how this fuck is blowing them all out of the water. His mind feels fractured as his desire builds, but can’t crest.

He’s on the cusp of begging when Colby’s thrusts finally lose their rhythm, and he starts moaning loudly in Ian’s ear. He shouts out Ian’s name and comes with a last hard thrust, while holding Ian even more tightly to him.

The moment after is quiet and still, except for Colby’s heavy breathing as his body slumps forward against Ian, and his cock softens. Ian holds up their weight for long seconds, feeling his desire still strumming under the surface, until Colby groans and pulls out, rolling onto his back next to Ian. Ian also rolls to his back, and begins jacking his cock urgently. Colby’s eyes are closed, but he quickly rolls back to Ian’s side, and slides his hand down the middle of Ian’s torso until he can wrap his hand around Ian’s cock, too.

Ian uses his other hand to pull on Colby’s hair, and pull him into a bruising kiss as Ian’s hips arch up, and he comes in long threads. Colby mutters, “Jesus fuck,” into Ian’s mouth, and all Ian can do is nod in agreement.

Exhaustion seems to be pulling at Colby, because his eyes also remain closed while he ties off the condom and throws it towards, but not into, the trash can next to the bed. Once done, he lies there as his breathing slows. Contrarily, now Ian is wide awake and feels uncomfortable hanging out in Colby’s bed with him sleeping next to him. He gives Colby a kiss to the cheek, at which he hums, and Ian says, “I’m going to head to my place.”

Colby’s eyes slit open, and he yawns. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m awake now. I don’t want to keep you up. I have some case notes to review, anyway.” Ian gets out of bed, and dresses. 

Colby murmurs, “If you’re sure,” but doesn’t move otherwise.

Once dressed, and after finding his shoes, Ian says, “Yeah. Come lock up after me.”

“Fuck, you’re making me get out of bed?”

Ian laughs and tugs on Colby’s arm. Colby gets up slowly, but does get up. Ian gives him another soft kiss at the door and waits to hear the locks engaging before leaving the hallway, and heading home.

* * *

* * *

They manage to meet up a couple more nights over the next few weeks, but then Colby’s case gets hairy, and even in the office, Ian barely sees him in the two weeks following. He misses him more than he anticipates. More than he has ever missed anyone except Bud and Mary when he was first deployed. He understands the job takes priority, particularly at times like this, but for the first time ever, he wishes they spent the night together regularly, just to be able to sleep next to Colby for the few hours a night Colby is allowing himself. 

But he and Colby aren’t quite there yet without sex to ease the way, and he knows it. So Ian sends Colby the occasional text with little day-to-day nonsense that doesn’t need a response, and leaves it at that.

He refuses to think about what this means about his feelings. 

It’s at the beginning of the third week that Ian gets pulled out of an interrogation by Don who orders him to suit up and get his sniper rifle. Colby’s case is now a hostage situation, and SWAT is mobilizing.

He gets the details en route. One perp, former Army demolitions expert, and one hostage. Colby is negotiating, but the situation is still uncertain. They arrive on scene, and Ian finds the best vantage point and sets up. He can see the curtains twitching inside the house, and two shadows moving, but he doesn’t have a clear shot inside the house. He says, “No joy,” into the comms. 

Don says, “You get a shot, you take it.”

“Copy.”

In the background, he can hear Colby talking in a soothing tone, probably trying to talk the perp down. Ian pushes it to the back of his mind and focuses on the moving shadows through his scope. He has his own job to do.

Colby’s voice rises in pitch, and without thought, Ian expands the field of vision of his scope. He knows the situation just got more serious. He sees the front door open, and he focuses on the figures coming out. It’s the perp holding a gun to the hostage’s head. Ian can see his mouth moving as he shouts something, but he doesn’t focus on the sounds. The perp’s other hand also holds something, so Ian focuses into a tighter shot and sees a cellphone. He’s got a bad feeling about this.

He slows his breathing and blocks out all other stimuli except his comms and the view through his scope. Over comms, Don says, “Ian, you got a shot?”

“Copy, but his finger is on his phone. I shoot, it slips. You said he was demolitions, right?”

Colby says, “I can still talk him down, Don.” Ian can hear the stress in his voice.

Don says, “If he rigged the house to blow, it’s not safe, Colby.”

Ian lets their argument wash over him as he concentrates on the scene. He focuses closer. Keeping the shot on the perp’s head, but with both the perp’s trigger finger and his other hand in Ian’s scope’s field of vision. 

He watches as the hand holding the phone fumbles, and seeing his opportunity, he takes the shot.

The perp goes down, and agents rush the scene and secure the hostage. The next thing Ian knows, Colby is roughly pulling him around and shouting in his face. “You had no right! I almost had him down!”

Ian has never seen Colby so impassioned or angry. In the background of his mind, he catalogs it, while in the forefront, he pushes down his own angry response and calmly says, “I had the shot. I took it.”

“Yeah, shoot first, ask questions later, that’s your way, isn’t it?”

Despite his best efforts, Ian can feel his own temper rising. He says, “You’re out of line, Granger.”

Then Don is pushing between them and saying, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell is the problem here?”

Colby points at Ian. “I almost had him talked down. He had no right taking that shot.”

Don says, “SWAT found the whole house wired to blow. There was no talking this guy down, Colby.”

“Are you taking his side?” Colby asks Don incredulously.

Ian sees red. Coldly he says, “We’re on the same side, or did you forget that?” He’s leaning into Don’s hand against his chest, and he can see Colby straining too. 

Suddenly Colby backs up like he can’t stand being near Ian anymore. “You keep telling yourself that,” he says and abruptly storms away.

Don turns to Ian and asks, “I thought you said you guys were cool?”

Breathing hard as the adrenaline finally floods his system, all Ian can say is, “I thought we were.” He then turns and walks off in the opposite direction from Colby and away from Don’s perceptive gaze.

* * *

* * *

Ian has to go through a post-incident interview with IA and write his after-action report, so he doesn’t get to head home until late. He regains his cool at the scene, but he purposely avoids Colby. Luckily, it seems Colby has the same idea. Back at the office, he sees Don talking to Colby in an interrogation room, but Don doesn’t approach him until after he’s packing up to head home. Don says, “Hey, you got a minute?”

“Does it matter?”

Don points to a conference room. “Not really.”

Ian finishes turning off his computer and follows Don into the conference room. He isn’t surprised when Don closes both the door and the shades. Ian leans against the table with his arms crossed. Don finishes and turns towards him. He asks, “Want to tell me your side of the story?”

“You were there.” Ian’s not in the mood for this shit.

“Humor me.”

Ian says, “You pulled me out of interrogation because Colby had a hostage situation, and SWAT was needed. We arrived on scene, and I set up, but couldn’t get a shot until the perp left the house. He had both a gun to the hostage’s head, and a phone held closely in his other hand. You said take the shot when I had an opportunity, so when the hand holding the phone slipped, I did.”

“You saw his hand slip?”

“The fact that the house didn’t blow up is evidence of that.” As additional facts came in about how the house was wired with explosives, Ian felt more and more vindicated.

Don asks, “So the relationship between you and Colby didn’t have any effect on your decision?”

“What? Are you fucking kidding me?” Ian is livid now.

“Just answer the question, Ian.”

Biting out the words, Ian says, “Jesus, no. That wasn’t even in my mind. I know how to do my job.”

“So you don’t doubt Colby’s ability as team leader?”

Ian blinks at the switch in angles. He asks, “What the hell are you fishing for, Eppes?”

“I’m trying to understand what happened out there.”

“Colby got too close to the case and lost his cool. That’s it. There’s no grudge, at least on my end, and I don’t doubt Colby’s abilities. It happens to all of us at one point or another.”

“Even you?”

“Not for a decade, but yeah, even I sometimes got too emotionally invested when I started out. Distance is learned.”

Don nods, but doesn’t stop blocking the door. He asks, “So what is the relationship between you and Colby? That was a lot of heat for two guys who just go out for beers.”

Ian sighs. Don’s a good guy, and they’re friends, but Don is also his boss. He almost wants Don’s opinion, since after today’s events, he’s not sure of what their relationship is either. He would have said something more substantive before Colby’s parting words. Now he just says, “We are or were kind of dating, but it’s a recent development. I don’t know where we stand now, obviously.” Ian looks at the floor, and it sinks in. He really doesn’t know, and Sunday he leaves for Quantico. It’s either the best timing, or the worst. He has no idea.

Don rubs a hand over his face, and says, “Fuck.”

“Yup.” Curious, he asks, “What did Colby say?”

“Basically the same, replacing fucking for dating.”

‘Great.” Ian smiles grimly. So maybe the timing of his Quantico trip is for the best. If Colby’s just been scratching an itch, then the faster Ian can pull back, the better.

Don says, “He’s still angry.”

“That’s not my problem, or my fault. I did my job.”

“Yeah, okay. You leaving for Quantico?”

“Sunday.”

“So everyone has time to cool down.”

Ian pushes Don to the side. He says, “That’s one word for it,” and pulls the door open. He’s pissed again, and he has had enough of this day.

* * *

* * *

Ian gets home late and sleeps restlessly. When he finally gets up, he downs coffee like it’s going out of style. He still feels groggy. He spends the day cleaning out the fridge, trashing anything that will go bad in the month he’s in Quantico, and packing. He’s trying not to think about Colby, but it’s hard, particularly because the night looms with nothing else to occupy his mind.

He’s just coming back from the trash shoot when he sees Colby at his door. He doesn’t know whether to be angry or relieved, so he schools his face into a blank expression, and says, “Boo,” to make Colby turn around.

Colby turns, and Ian can see his jaw clench. So still angry then. Whatever. Ian walks past Colby to unlock the door, and then waves him inside, closing it behind them. No sense giving the neighbors a show.

He leans against the counter dividing the living room and kitchen and watches as Colby paces in front of him. Neither says anything, until Colby explodes. “What is wrong with you? You knew I was negotiating!”

Reining in his own rising temper, Ian calmly says, “My job was to take the shot if it materialized. Not worry about your job.”

“He was a soldier, just like us, you know that?” Colby is glaring at him, and his hands are fisted so tight, Ian can see his knuckles turning white. He’s wondering if this will end with a physical altercation. Maybe he shouldn’t have invited Colby inside, after all. It would be a shame to break the couch.

Ian says, “Not just like us, because neither of us have ever tried to blow up half a neighborhood.”

Colby’s fists tighten even more. “You’re so flip. Do you care at all that you killed a man yesterday?”

“I care, but I know whatever bad shit they did to put themselves in my crosshairs isn’t on me. I’m part of the solution, not the problem. I also care that the hostage got to go home safe and sound to her family, and all of us made it through.”

Giving a mocking laugh, Colby throws up one hand, and half turns away. “I’m not sure I believe you. You’re so cold-blooded.”

Ian bites out, “Still not a sociopath.” He’s losing the battle with his temper.

“Somedays, I’m not so sure.” Colby’s staring at him like he’s a bug under a microscope.

Cold fury washes over Ian, and he can feel the intimate press of his guns around his body. He walks over to his door and opens it. “You need to leave. Now.”

Colby finally looks shaken. He says, “Wait! That wasn’t what I was trying to say.”

It’s not enough. Ian points towards the hallway outside his door. “Tough shit. Now get out.”

Colby’s lips tighten, but he goes. Ian slams the door shut. He’s glad he packed earlier. He’s not getting anything done tonight, he can feel it.

* * *

* * *

It’s late the next night when Ian gets to the residence hotel near Quantico where he’s staying. He barely has the energy to check the place over before collapsing into bed. The last two restless nights are catching up with him. His anger passed as he flew somewhere over the Midwest. He knows Colby is wrong about him; he just learned long ago how to process the grief and anger he feels about the lives he takes. He’s left wondering why Colby spent so much time with him if he has so many doubts, but he’s bitter about it rather than angry now.

He’s up for his first day of class bright and early Monday morning, but he’s not looking forward to it. The downside of having a personal life that is all fucked up. He desperately misses the days when he needed no one, and he could move on with aplomb. Now his desire for change and a fuller life seems to be a total mistake.

He’s got his shades on and his arms crossed as the students arrive, and he pushes thoughts of Colby and L.A. to the back of his mind. He needs to focus and give his class all of his attention. Lives depend on what he teaches here, and careers are made or derailed. He demands their full participation, so they deserve the same from him.

Luckily, he learned how to compartmentalize while still a kid. Having a drunk for a father and a meth-addict for a mother will do that to you. Even after he got adopted by Bud and Mary, it didn’t erase what he learned beforehand. He knows that’s partly why Colby thinks he’s cold, but he pushes that realization out of his mind savagely. He doesn’t care, and it doesn’t excuse anything said. He begins his opening spiel and gives them his full attention, learning names and abilities as the day goes on.

He spends more time with this class and on the range than usual for the next couple of weeks. He feels like he has nothing to go home to. His hotel room is as impersonal as always, and he gets a couple texts and a phone call from Don, but that is mostly it for personal contact. He answers the texts, but sends the call to voicemail. He’s not up for more recriminations or a discussion about L.A. and what his fight with Colby means about his position there. He’s almost tempted to cut and run, going back to fugitive recovery, so he doesn’t want to talk to Don until his own mind is clearer.

He does pick up when his adopted sister Margaret calls. She sounds so happy to hear his voice that he can’t help but smile. He asks, “What’s going on with you?”

She details a recent trip to see her grandkids in New Mexico, and other family news. As she talks on, Ian is grudgingly impressed. She was married for a good forty years before her husband died, and they had been high school sweethearts before that, and he doesn’t know how she did it. He crashed and burned before they even got to the dating portion of the relationship, at least according to Colby’s point of view.

As the latest tale about the trouble her toddler grandson got into winds down, she says, “But enough about me. How are you doing, Ian? You sound, well, you sound distracted.”

“I’m okay. Thinking about going back to fugitive recovery.”

“I thought you were looking for more permanence?”

“I was, but it didn’t turn out too well. I’m thinking of cutting my losses.”

“That’s not like you. What happened?”

Still feeling the sting of Colby’s words, and since Margaret is the closest to understanding who he is and the way he is after watching him grow up, he actually tells her. Surprisingly, it feels good to vent and get it off his chest. It feels like piercing a boil and letting all the bad stuff out.

At the end of his rant, Margaret says, “Oh, Ian. Love isn’t like chasing bad guys. Forgiveness is an option. It’s actually probably required. I’m not excusing what he said, but you have to keep in mind that Colby only knows what you allow him to see. And you’ve always played your cards close to your chest. You have to ask yourself, is what you feel worth bending for?”

“How do you know when it is?”

She chuckles. “Trial and error, for the most part. You’re just getting a late start at it.”

“Well, that sucks.”

She laughs outright at that, and Ian can’t help but join her. He didn’t solve anything by talking to Margaret, but he feels infinitely better anyway. She replies, “Yes, it does. But it’s worth it when it works out.”

* * *

* * *

Ian thinks about forgiveness and relationships, and how both play into what he wants. He finally admits to himself that he still wants Colby. How fucked is that? His bitterness has mostly passed, leaving discontentment in its wake. He guesses he’ll see where things go when he gets back to L.A.; he promised Margaret as much, but he’s not expecting much from Colby.

Still, even though he’s been thinking about Colby and their relationship, he’s taken aback when three weeks into his four-week stint, he gets a text from Colby late one night. He realizes it was stupid not to expect Colby to be thinking about them too, but he hasn’t thought that far ahead. It’s unlike him, but relationships are still so new to him, he guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. The text just says, “Talk?”

He ignores how his heart had leapt when he saw Colby’s name, and also how his stomach roiled. God, he can’t believe he’s becoming such a sap in his old age. It sucks. Squashing his feelings down, he writes back, “Why?” He’s not going to get into another fruitless argument.

There’s silence for long enough that Ian goes to bed, but keeps his phone next to him. Fifteen minutes later, he gets another text. “I want to explain.” He wonders that it took fifteen minutes to say that, but he also gets how hard it might’ve been for Colby to reach out at all.

So he writes back. “Sure. Text or call?”

His phone rings. Even though he knows it’s Colby, he automatically answers with, “Edgerton.”

Colby just says, “Hey.”

Unsure what to say now that Colby is on the line, Ian just says, “Hey,” back, and lets silence descend.

Ian finally hears Colby take a deep breath, and say, “So I talked to Don and the department shrink. It helped me get perspective.”

“That’s good.” Ian can still hear Colby’s hard breathing over the line. He sounds agitated, and Ian wonders if Colby is as upset by their argument as he is. He hadn’t thought so; Colby seemed done with him, but why else would he want to talk now?

Colby finally says, “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have gone there. I knew better; I was just so angry.”

For the moment, Ian ignores how the words settle his stomach and ease his mind. He’ll analyze that after the call is over. Instead he says, “You can’t let your suspects get in your head that way. It always spells trouble.”

“Yeah, I know, but even though I don’t know how you avoid it, I shouldn’t have taken it to mean you can’t care.”

Ian thinks for a second, letting silence descend. Remembering what Margaret said about him playing his cards close to his chest, he decides to offer some insight. The apology kind of demands it of him, and he’s feeling better about the times he shared with Colby. He says, “For me, my job’s not about hurting people, even the people I kill; it’s about out-smarting them. Not only being in their heads, but being three steps ahead of what they’re thinking and stopping them before they get there. Most of the people we get, they’re all escalating. If I didn’t stand in the way, more innocent people would die, maybe even fellow agents. I can’t stand that thought. That’s what keeps me focused and lets me sleep at night.” 

Colby says, “That’s, god, that’s not at all what I was thinking you’d say. I don’t understand you at all, do I?”

Shrugging, even though Colby won’t see it, Ian lets his thoughts unspool. “I know I come off as cold and as untouched by the violence of my job, but you have to remember, I’ve been doing this one way or another for over twenty-five years. If I didn’t have some distance, or if I didn’t have my own morals guiding me, I’d be a nutcase. No better than those I hunt. I’m intimately aware of that fact, trust me.”

“You were never going to shoot me when you held me hostage, were you?”

A bit surprised by the insight, he admits, “Nope. I just had to make everyone think I would to further my plan.”

“Shit. I really do apologize, Ian. Seriously.”

“Apology accepted. Someone wise told me that forgiveness is necessary sometimes.”

Colby replies, “Oh yeah? Who’s that?” Ian can hear the relief in his voice, which is nice. He wonders if Colby is more transparent over the phone than he is in person, or if his relief is so great that it comes across easily right now. He doesn’t know, but files the thought away. Maybe they both feel the freedom to be more honest over the phone rather than in person. He’s also being more chatty than normal.

He answers, “My adopted sister, Margaret. We talked a week or so ago, and she helped me get my head on straight.”

“You’re not the one who was wrong.”

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t poised to make my own mistakes.”

“You were thinking of leaving us, weren’t you?”

Ian feels bad about how close he was to giving up. He admits, “The thought had crossed my mind to go back to the way things were. It was simpler, among other things.”

“I’m glad she changed your mind. Tell me about her?”

Ian gets more comfortable and starts talking about Margaret. The conversation meanders from that point on, and they finally hang up a good half an hour later. It’s now late, but Ian feels more at peace than he has felt since coming to Quantico. It shows the next morning. Despite being up late, he’s in a good mood.

* * *

* * *

Ian and Colby talk a couple more times during Ian’s last week at Quantico, keeping things lighter than their first phone call. Ian knows he has some decisions to make about Colby. He accepted Colby’s apology, but that doesn’t mean things will return to the way they were. It’s pretty obvious he was more invested than Colby was. While that isn’t still true from what he can tell, Ian’s not sure that makes a difference. Relationships are harder to fathom than criminals.

So his thoughts chase each other on the return flight, and on the taxi ride to his apartment. Colby had offered to pick him up, but Ian declined. That felt like too much, too soon. As the day progresses, he reaches no conclusions, but feels more settled, contrarily. He might be new to this relationship nonsense, but he at least gave it a fair shot. Remembering Margaret’s advice, he figures that is a good enough start, even if they do crash and burn.

He does agree to meet up with Colby the next morning before they go to work. They get coffee and walk around a little park near Ian’s apartment. Colby keeps shooting looks in his direction, but not saying anything. Finally, Ian asks, “What?”

Colby smooths a hand over his hair and sighs heavily. “Look, I know I messed up. I’m still hoping your forgiveness extends to giving me another shot.”

“Why would you want one? You weren’t serious to begin with.” This is the crux of the matter to Ian’s way of thinking.

“Yeah, that was a dick move. It wasn’t because I didn’t care, but because I was too stupid to realize how much I did in fact care.”

Ian tries to parse that. He ends up admitting defeat. “You know that makes no sense.”

Colby laughs, but it’s self-mocking. “Yeah. Welcome to my brain. David once said I had high standards, but poor social skills. It’s basically true. I might have been more settled than you were all these years, but I wasn’t any more connected than you. I don’t trust people easily.”

After all he’s observed about Colby in the last six months, Ian isn’t surprised. There was no one else Colby was hanging out with, and he guesses after being a triple agent, it’s hard to pick up the pieces. Thinking out loud, he says, “So, what? You and I aren’t as different as you like to think?”

It’s a throwaway comment, but Colby straightens his back, and the way he does captures all of Ian’s attention. He looks like a man who just got the answer. With a bit of wonder in his voice, Colby replies, “Maybe not.”

“So where does that leave us?” Ian cautiously asks. He’s not sure this is enough to build a relationship on. 

Colby rubs his face, but he looks contemplative. “You know, David called us dinghies.”

Ian makes a face, and throws up his hand in a ‘what the fuck’ gesture. Apparently all of Don’s old team spent too much time with the Professor. They’re all talking in riddles now.

“He said we’re two dinghies, both alone, off-shore in the dark. We can see the lights of shore, but never reach it, and if we can’t reach the shore, maybe we can at last reach towards each other. Rope our dinghies together.”

“So, what, two is better than one?” Even as he speaks the words, Ian’s getting it. It isn’t supposed to mean settling for second best. Instead, it’s accepting who you are. If he and Colby _are_ dinghies, they can’t change that. They can never reach shore, neither knows how. They don’t have the skills, social or otherwise. But, they do apparently know how to reach towards each other.

Colby answers, “Or maybe being together is better than being adrift, alone. I just never accepted it before.”

Ian nods, he’s feeling hope for the first time in a while, but still jokes, “You really know how to romance a guy, Colby.” He feels his tension seep out, and his expression loosen, and a small smile is tugging at his lips.

“Like you would know romance if it came up and bit you on the ass.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’d definitely know what to do then.”

Colby laughs. “Okay, you got me there. I remember that.” Ian winks at him, and Colby chuckles again. His expression turns serious, and he asks, “So what do you say? Up for a date--for giving me a second chance?”

They’re on their way back to Ian’s apartment parking lot now, and Ian takes a sip of his coffee to give himself time to think it over. He watches the light change and traffic begin moving again as they approach the crosswalk. He’s tempted, more than he can say. He wants to trust Colby, but the past six months are holding him back. He doesn’t know if he can let it all go. On the other hand, he reminds himself it’s a date, not marriage.

So he finally says, “A date, sure.”

Looking at him with understanding on his face, Colby replies, “But maybe not more yet? Fair enough. I’d be hesitant, too. Thanks for giving us another shot.”

Ian stops by his car and leans on the hood to look over at Colby. With a deprecating smile, he says, “I guess you’re worth it.”

Colby laughs again and says, “Cold, man, so cold,” but he’s smiling at the end of it, and continues with a quiet, “Thanks.”

Nodding at him with a smile, Ian waits until Colby smiles back, and then they get in their cars, and drive to work. Ian doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Don, but does know he’ll have to think of something. Don isn’t the kind of boss to let things fester.

* * *

* * *

Just like Ian expects, Don catches him first thing and invites him into his office to catch up. Ian gets a fresh coffee on the way and settles into the visitor seat in Don’s office with a sigh. Don closes the door, and says, “Glad to have you back.”

“Good to be back.”

“Yeah? Even with how things left off?”

As expected, Don is fishing. Ian replies, “I talked to Colby. We’re good now.”

“That’s good. I wasn’t sure how you guys would handle things.”

“And you’re curious.” Ian smirks at Don.

“Hey, now, don’t make it sound like I’m only in it for the gossip. Besides wanting to make sure two of my best guys are getting along, you’re both friends. I care.”

Ian can’t help but say, “Jesus, has everyone but me been to a shrink? You’re all emoting all over the place.”

Don discreetly gives him the finger, and Ian laughs. Don says, “What’s more funny is that according to everyone, you’re probably the one most in need of a shrink. Snipers aren’t known for being stable.”

Smirking, Ian leans back casually. “I was always an overachiever.”

“Fuck, isn’t that the truth.” They both laugh, and Don looks more relaxed, which is what Ian was going for, so he’s relieved. Don asks, “Did you talk to anyone at all? Or were you too macho?” He’s smirking now.

“Fuck you. I talked to my adoptive sister. She was very insightful.”

“No kidding! I honestly wasn’t expecting you to admit to something like that.” Don looks delighted, and Ian feels a rush of warmth thinking about Don and his steadfast friendship. It hasn’t been too overt, and they had the whole situation back when he was framed, but his support since Ian was posted to L.A. has been nonstop, even when Colby was in the way.

It means a lot. So Ian says, “Even us macho guys sometimes need perspective.” He winks to show he isn’t serious, and Don laughs with him.

With a coy look, Don asks, “So how are things with Colby now? And now I am gossiping.”

Laughing, Ian shrugs, but adds, “They’re…okay. We’re trying again, which I figure you should know, both as our friend and our boss.”

“As your boss, I should caution you about office romances, but as your friend, I’m happy to hear that. Colby was pretty down while you were gone.”

This is the first Ian is hearing about how Colby was without him, so he says, “Do tell.”

Don gives him a look, but says, “Once he calmed down, and we talked through the situation, and follow-up details came to light, he was pretty upset with the way he acted. He knew he was wrong, but didn’t know how to fix what he broke.”

“For most of the time I was in Quantico, I wasn’t even sure he cared, to be honest.”

“Oh, he definitely did.”

Ian feels better about his decision to agree to a date, so he smiles at Don. “Thanks,” he says, meaning it wholeheartedly.

Don just nods. There’s a knock on his door, and his secretary puts her head around when Don calls out. She says, “Your nine o’clock is here.”

Don replies, “Thanks,” and Ian gives a smile and stands up. 

He says, “I’ll head back to my desk. Thanks for the chat.”

Don says, “Anytime,” but Ian can tell his mind is already on other things, so he makes his way out, and heads to his desk, happy with the tidbits of information he got out of Don.

* * *

* * *

For their date, they start off with an early dinner at a small Italian restaurant that Colby chooses. It’s an obvious date kind of place, and not the sort of place Ian has been often. He raises his eyebrows at Colby when he gets a good look at the mood lighting with candles, and fine china and ivory tablecloths. Seeing his reaction, Colby shoves his shoulder gently as they wait to be seated. He says, “I thought it would be nice. Shut up.”

“I know I said date, but I was thinking more ballgame and beer, not wine and candlelight.”

“Yeah, I heard all about that from Nikki.”

As the hostess leads them to their table, Ian lifts his eyebrows again. “She kiss and tell?”

Colby rejoins quickly with, “Did you kiss her?”

“Well, I’m certainly not telling.” Ian winks, and Colby pouts at him. Laughing, Ian looks at the menu, and they both order when the waiter comes by a few minutes later. 

After their wine is served, Colby asks, “So how was your first week back? People kept giving me these sidelong looks like I was going to flip out if I saw you again.”

Snorting out a laugh, Ian replies, “People did seem more reserved. I don’t know if it was because they were taking your side, or if they expected me to lose my shit. People tend to tread carefully around me, anyway. I guess that’s one way my reputation as a cold bastard helps.”

“No doubt. I got some of that after the triple agent thing. People felt betrayed, regardless.”

“You don’t talk about that much.” This was actually the first time Ian could remember him bringing it up. 

Colby shrugs and fiddles with his fork. “I hated every second of it. I’m mostly trying to forget it, even now.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Duty before dishonor. Plus, I didn’t know of any other way. No one else had the in I did.”

Their food is served, and Ian steers the conversation to less serious topics. He’s curious, but not enough to ruin the mood. Colby catches Ian up on the Eppes brothers and Charlie’s new baby girl, while Ian talks about David, who he ran into during his last day at Quantico. 

The food is good, as good as the place implies with the décor, which Ian appreciates. As the hour passes, Ian relaxes, and he can see that this makes Colby relax and smile more too. Apparently Colby has been nervous about their date, but it only shows when his tension is gone. Interesting.

Still, Ian isn’t sorry to finish the meal, and have Colby pay the bill. He offers to split it, but Colby says, “I invited you out. Date, remember?”

Ian gives a deliberate look around the restaurant. “How could I forget?”

“Am I ever going to live this down?”

“Probably not.” Ian laughs at the expression on Colby’s face and is relieved when Colby starts laughing too. They leave the restaurant, and Ian zips up his jacket in the cooler air.

Colby asks, “I’m trying too hard, huh?”

Ian waggles his hand. “A little. But I appreciate the thought, even if it is all a bit too fancy for me.”

“Well, I think you’ll like the next part of our date better, then.”

“What, no moonlight stroll along the beach?”

“God, no,” Colby answers. “I love the beach, but never found it particularly sexy. Too much sand.”

They get in Colby’s car, and he starts driving towards Hollywood. Ian asks, “So where’re we going?”

“I thought we could play pool again. I enjoyed that.”

“Same place?”

“Yeah,” Colby answers with a sidelong smile.

“Cool.” Ian wonders if Colby remembers last time as fondly as he does. It was their first time really flirting, and when Ian’s interest in Colby was cemented. He likes the symmetry of this being their first date both times, in a sense. He kind of hopes Colby feels the same way, but doesn’t ask.

They park and head to the pool hall. Ian insists on buying their beers, which Colby agrees with since he pays for their pool table usage. When Ian arrives back at their table, Colby is setting up a game of Nine-Ball. He says, “You mixed up the cue ball and the one.”

Colby looks up at him from where he is leaning over the table, and with a soft smile and a wink, he replies, “No, I didn’t. I want to play Nine-Ball Kiss.”

Ian blinks, and remembering Colby calling him a Nine-Ball a time or two, feels a wide smile bloom on his face. “You romantic fuck.”

With his own delighted smile, Colby takes one of the beers, drops the one ball into Ian’s free hand, and says, “You can break.”

They play the game, and if Ian thought they had flirted before, it’s nothing compared to how heavily Colby is flirting now. It’s like he’s trying to make up for lost time. Ian wins, and since the way they play is that winner chooses the next game, he sets up another round of Nine-Ball Kiss. Colby laughs and gets in a quick congratulatory kiss to Ian’s lips, and Ian winks at him.

They play for a couple hours, trading off games and nursing their beers, and it’s more comfortable and fun for Ian than dinner at the fancy restaurant had been. Colby also seems happier, and they joke and flirt until the place gets too crowded to be fun anymore. Walking back to Colby’s car, Colby turns and walks backwards to say, “So, that ends my planning for the evening, but I was kind of hoping you’re the kind of guy who puts out on the first date.”

Ian barks out a laugh and crowds Colby against the side of the car to kiss him. “And what if I’m not?”

“Making out, then? I don’t want the night to end.” He pouts convincingly, but Ian suspects he’s only halfway serious and that Ian can say no and they would still be okay. It lets him relax and enjoy the joking around.

Still, Ian asks, “I thought you were on call? Wouldn’t you like to get some sleep?”

Colby smiles winningly. “I’d be happy to do it at your place. I hear you have a mattress and everything.”

Rolling his eyes at the jest, Ian kisses him again. He’s missed Colby too, and as well as the flirting, watching Colby bend over all night, with his slacks tightening around his ass, has him ready to go. So instead of joking around any further, against Colby’s lips, Ian whispers, “I can probably be persuaded.”

“Sweet,” is Colby’s answer before he deepens the kiss. They make out leisurely against the car for long minutes until Ian can feel his cock start to harden. 

“Let’s go home,” he says, and steps back to allow Colby room to get to his side of the car.

Darting in to give Ian one last kiss, Colby goes around to the driver’s side, and they get in, and drive back to Ian’s apartment. Once inside, they take off their shoes and jackets, and Colby follows Ian into the bedroom.

He looks around with interest while Ian is emptying his pockets onto the bookcase that he bought with Colby. Ian takes off his shirt, but before he unbuckles his belt, he stops to wrap his arms around Colby’s shoulders, who is still just standing there looking around. Colby wraps his arms around Ian in turn and starts running his hands along Ian’s back. He says, “God, I love touching you.”

“Get undressed, and you can touch me all you want.” Colby grins at him, and Ian chuckles. They strip down to their underwear and slide into bed.

Colby yawns and snuggles close, kissing Ian again. Drawing Colby closer, Ian leisurely kisses back. He’s in no rush, his arousal is banked, and he’s in the mood to take his time. They trade slow, drugging kisses for what feels like hours, until Colby yawns again. He mumbles, “Sorry,” as he covers his mouth, and ducks his head.

Rubbing a soothing hand along Colby’s back, feeling the warm smooth skin, Ian says, “It looks like you might be the one not putting out tonight.”

Resting his head on Ian’s chest, Colby just says, “Sorry,” again.

“Hey, no. I don’t mind. You’re looking exhausted now.” Ian pulls his head up, and kisses him lightly. “Do you want to stay?”

“Can I?”

“Of course.”

Yawning a third time, Colby looks sheepish, but Ian just manhandles him until Colby’s the little spoon, and says, “Go to sleep, Colby.”

It only takes five minutes for all of Colby’s tension to seep out, and for him to start snoring gently. Ian smiles against his neck at the snuffling sound, and closes his own eyes. He’s not sleepy yet, but it feels good holding Colby, and he is intimately aware that this is something they’ve never done before. They both had their walls up too high.

He can smell the faint, lingering smell of Colby’s aftershave and feel his breathing under his hand on Colby’s belly, and it’s more than nice. Tender, even. He abruptly realizes that this contentedness and connection is what he was searching for when he left fugitive recovery. He can feel the truth of that in his bones.

What’s even more astounding is that he isn’t scared of it. He doesn’t know how long he and Colby will last, but he’ll give it his all for as long as they do, and he believes Colby will too. That’s enough. With satisfaction, he snuggles closer and deliberately relaxes. Tiredness is finally tugging at his consciousness, and he feels good about letting it all go, and trusting in himself and Colby.


End file.
